


Mortal Sin

by RydiaPryde



Category: Final Fantasy VIII
Genre: Character Death, Dark, Don't let the tags scare you away, F/M, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Murder, Secret Relationship, Seven Deadly Sins, Sexual Content, Sorceress/Knight bond gone wrong, Tragic Romance, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:40:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 31,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21526138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RydiaPryde/pseuds/RydiaPryde
Summary: The first kill had been an accident.  The rest became rituals.  The seven deadly sins.
Relationships: Rinoa Heartilly/Squall Leonhart
Kudos: 27





	1. Prologue

**Mortal Sin: Prologue**

Art often depicts the more carnal aspects of human nature. What justifies desireless seduction or prostitution? What justifies murder? There is a painting, _Giuditta e Oloferne,_ that justifies this level of manipulation and brutality. The heroine, to save her people from certain death, seduces a powerful general, gets him drunk, and then beheads him. Or at least that was what was taught in the Garden Art History course. As it was once said, _every murderer is probably somebody’s old friend._

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He was the only one who could stop it. As Seifer stared at the battered mangled body in his arms, only recognizable by the hair, he knew it was time. Limbs turned in directions they shouldn’t be, a bone protruding out of her shin. Large bruising and pooling in her abdomen made it clear her spleen had ruptured. The blood trickling from her mouth and nose implied the broken ribs had jutted into her lungs, ripping them and filling them with blood. He didn’t know the exact mechanism of the injuries, but he could guess based on where he found the body -- at the base of the Garden. The killer’s sadism and ritualistic intent certainly hadn’t waned over time, that was for sure. Whoever had done this had also taken a trophy. A _sacrifice_.

Seifer knew he was going to find her dead. The bodies of Fujin and Raijin had told him that much. Their deaths had been quick and almost an afterthought, sliced through with the precision of a surgeon. 

But her death had been...ceremonial and she had clearly suffered. For Seifer, her death was the one that tipped the scales. Not only did he know he had to take action, he also was now absolutely certain who the killer was.

Seifer was the only person alive who understood what was going through the mind of the murderer. He was intimately aware of the ecstatic euphoria the kills were giving their perpetrator. He wouldn’t be surprised if the killer was getting his rocks off right now, fucking sadist, as Seifer pulled the most recent victim closer to him, running his hands through what was left of the corpse’s hair, not bothering to avoid the opened portions of her skull. He didn’t care that brains were coming apart in his hands and smearing on his gloves.

In hindsight, Seifer should have seen this coming. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my amazing beta, the lovely and talented **Bebedora**. Without her, not only would I have not had the guts to write this fic, but, it would also probably stink. You rock!  
> Authors Warning: This fic is a strong “M” rating. It will contain character death, murder, mature adult content, sexual situations, and drug use. Dark themes mixed with memories of happy times with a touch of humor.  
> The painting _Giuditta e Oloferne_ is a real painting. There are multiple versions, but the two best are by Caravaggio (located in the National Museum of Rome), and Artemisia Gentileschi (in the Uffizi in Florence) The quote “Every murderer is probably someone’s old friend” was said by the great Agatha Christie.


	2. In the beginning

**Mortal Sin: Chapter 1**

**In the beginning**

It is said if you ever saw Hyne in person that it would feel like the most incredible orgasm in the world while you instantaneously died, the sensation of a burning arrow scorching through your chest. Rapture. Ecstasy. Excruciating pleasurable pain. All at once. There was a statue of it, _L'Estasi di Santa Teresa,_ that was lectured on in the Art History course at the Garden. That was _her_ existence now: Hyne’s descendant. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It started with a kiss. With _that_ kiss.

Squall wasn’t sure how he ended up dancing to that same song. Again. Actually, scratch that, he was keenly aware of exactly how it had happened. Rinoa and he had just finished speaking with the Kramers, who thanked them profusely for their work during Time Compression. Oddly, no one ever once mentioned the word “Sorceress.” The instrumental version of Julia Heartilly’s hit began to play. That’s when the doe eyes came out and Rinoa clasped her hands in front of her. She knew he couldn’t say no to that move.

“Pleaaaasssse, Squall? Just one dance?” Rinoa bit her bottom lip just slightly after asking. Hook, line, and sinker.

So here he was, dancing in the middle of the ballroom with Rinoa, who was regaling him with a story about Quistis catching Zell making out with a girl in the library. Squall wasn’t really paying attention. He was halfway between being able to thoroughly enjoy the feeling of Rinoa dancing in his arms, and being distracted by stealing glances at Cid. Something had been bothering him about Cid all night, but he couldn’t place a finger on it. Squall knew one thing, he did not like the way Cid looked at Rinoa, it was a combination of predatory and _distaste_. Like she was a mere inconvenience.

Squall’s reverie was interrupted by Selphie stumbling past them donning Irvine’s trademark cowboy hat.

“Come and gitttt itttt, Irvieeeeee,” she squealed. 

They had all drank champagne, but Selphie was clearly toasted. Given the girl was barely eighty-two pounds soaking wet and had drank almost an entire bottle herself, she had to be sloshed. Squall and Rinoa themselves had imbibed a few glasses and had the pleasant giggling bubbly sensation of mild tipsiness. It was probably what helped Rinoa so easily convince Squall to get on the dancefloor. It also had the added bonus of and giving Squall more bravery with physical contact than he normally had, as he let his hand drop lower on Rinoa’s waist and descend to her hip. Squall was delighted when she didn’t protest.

His hand, however, was knocked off balance when Selphie and Irvine bumped into the pair.

“Sorry, bud,” Irvine slurred, wrapping his arms around Selphie’s midsection and trying to carry her off the floor. 

“Rinny, _Rinny_ , you gotta (hic) try tha dumplins (hic),” Selphie added.

All the fated children knew the nature of Irvine and Selphie’s relationship. Between Selphie’s volume and Irvine’s complete lack of discretion, and the fact that they slept in tents by each other for months, they _all_ knew. Quistis had scolded them, informing them that it was a violation of some Garden rule. Then, of course, she scolded Squall for not enforcing said rule. Of course, she was gifted with an uninterested, “ _Whatever…”_ It wasn’t until Zell wandered into the wrong tent one night and was so traumatized that he didn’t speak for two straight weeks that Squall finally asked them to _at least_ be somewhat thoughtful of the fact that everyone else was within ear shot. 

Dancing moment now ruined, Squall motioned with his eyes and a nod of the head to the balcony. Rinoa winked at him and went over to the drinks table, waiting a few minutes to head out to not make it look obvious they were going out there together. After spending so much time with him, she had finally respected and understood Squall’s desire for discretion, whatever the reason may be. Squall did have his own reasons for not wanting people to know they were sneaking off together. First, there was a video camera floating somewhere around, and he was pretty sure he had seen Selphie eyeing it up. Even more so, he was still bothered by the look Cid had been giving Rinoa. It continued to haunt him, and he didn’t want any unwanted attention.

“Pretty night, huh?” Rinoa gazed up into the stars, catching one shooting across the sky. It was like fate. She pointed up to the star and turned to look at Squall.

“Yeah, beautiful,” he replied softly. Although, he wasn’t looking at the sky. Something flushed within him, and he did something he hadn’t done in years. Maybe not since he was a child.

He smiled.

Squall pulled on her arm, tugging her towards him. He gently kissed her. Something happened in that kiss. Squall was by no means experienced, in fact, he had never kissed anyone before, but he was pretty sure it wasn’t supposed to feel like _that._ It was like a thundaga spell ignited where their lips met, giving a tingling sensation to the kiss that travelled all the way down his toes. It was far from unpleasant. In fact, it was exhilarating.

Squall pulled away from her and leaned his forehead against Rinoa’s. His breathing was uncharacteristically heavy.

“Did you…are you doing that?” He whispered, his breath hot against her mouth.

“No,” she answered, “I thought…I thought you were.”

They decided to kiss again, for experiment’s sake. This time the feeling was stronger and they both had the same desire-- _more._ It felt like a hunger that nothing would ever satisfy. Squall had never wanted anything so much in his entire life. He felt like the world would end in that moment if he didn’t get more chances to kiss her, to kiss all of her. Visions of Rinoa screaming his name flashed in his mind and he grinned wickedly, grabbing her hand and pulling her through a secret door off the balcony. Avoiding the ballroom, he guided her through the halls with the intent of going to the dorms.

He never made it that far. It started with small kisses stolen in between her nervous laughter. But every time their lips met, he felt bolder. Stronger. The fire in his stomach churned before turning into pure electricity, overwhelming his senses. The dorms were too far. The prospect of being caught, or even seen thrilled Squall to no end.

He stopped abruptly. So abruptly that Rinoa ran into him. 

“Squall, what---ooof!” Rinoa furrowed her eyebrows in irritation.

Squall grabbed her and flung her against the wall of the dark hallway, pressing his body against hers. He slammed her harder than either of them thought he would, he didn’t mean to be that forceful, he just _needed_ more of her. It was beyond desire at this point. The hazy look Rinoa gave him from underneath her long lashes told him that she felt the same way.

Thankfully she wasn’t wearing those damned bicycle shorts. All that lay between him and his prize was a skirt and some other thin material. Lace panties. He made quick work of the skirt she wore, practically ripping it in half in the process as he shoved it up onto her hips. Tearing her panties, he unbuckled his belts, unbuttoned his pants, and slid into her, wrapping one of her legs around his waist. His gunblade fell to the floor with a loud _thunk_. Foreplay be damned. The last year of their life, fighting for their lives, battles, time compression, had been foreplay enough. They both hissed at the contact, and Squall wondered why in the world he hadn’t been doing this with her ages ago.

He was so wrapped up in taking her, he forgot to pause and think that it may have hurt her. It felt so good and so tight, almost excruciatingly so. It was heaven. He was rough and clumsy, but moan his name, she did. He swore he could hear Rinoa’s heart pumping against her breast, like a metronome egging him to move faster. He mumbled meaningless words mixed with declarations of love in her ear. As he finished, he felt that electricity tingle down the back of his neck, down to his toes, curling them on the inside of his boots. Rinoa was putty in his arms and was positively shaking. At some point, her other leg had wrapped around his waist, and Squall realized the only thing stopping her from collapsing to the floor was his body weight pressed against her. 

He felt adrenaline pumping through him, and was more invigorated than any battle had ever made him. Every cell in his body felt as if they were on fire, all of his senses were heightened. He could practically taste the smell in the air of their aftermath. 

Squall lifted Rinoa up, regretfully slid himself from within her, and carried her to his dorm room. She gazed at him in a way that made his head dizzy – her eyes were filled with a devotion and trust that was disarming. As he gently laid her onto his bed, thankfully larger with his Commander upgraded room, he decided to worship her body in the way he had originally planned on doing. 

As he took his time on his second chance, Squall marveled at the noises he could elicit from Rinoa with just simple touches. Every moan, every murmur felt like drinking ice-cold spring water when you’re dying of thirst. The feeling of thundaga was now on every inch of his skin, and when she touched him it almost burned. Her nails dug into his back, leaving small crescent moon shapes. It felt like salt in a wound, but he couldn’t get enough. How could pain be causing him so much pleasure? 

As Squall finished again, sweat dripping from his brow onto her naked chest below him, he found he could no longer support his weight and he collapsed on top of Rinoa. He mentally vowed to spend as much time as he could memorizing every inch of her skin with his mouth and hands and hoped to see her wearing nothing but skin in as many chances as possible. 

“Hyne…I love you,” he whispered to her earnestly. He kissed underneath her ear and trailed down her neck, inhaling deeply, burning that smell into his brain. Squall let out a small chuckle, “Now I know why they call it ‘ _la petit mort_.’”

Rinoa giggled, her hands running lazy circles along Squall’s bare back. Gently tracing over the claw marks she had left there mere minutes ago, “Tell me about it.” 

Squall hid the satisfied grin on his face as he nuzzled himself into her cheek, gently nibbling her ear.

“That tickles…” Rinoa mumbled, “oh and hey. I love you too, you know.” She turned her face to his and gave him a chaste kiss that would have made Juliet proud. A small arc of electricity passed between their lips, making his heart thump wildly. 

Squall smiled broadly, the same smile he gave her on the balcony before he kissed her for the first time, “Gods, you’re gonna be the death of me, you know that?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my amazing beta, the awesome **Bebedora**. Without her, this would never have been written.  
> This fic is going to hit the ground running, stay tuned.
> 
> The statue _L'Estasi di Santa Teresa_ or _The Ecstasy of St. Theresa_ was sculpted by Bernini and is in the Cornaro Chapel in Rome, Italy. It is an iconic Baroque masterpiece and stunning in person.


	3. Prelude

**Mortal Sin**

**Chapter 2: Prelude**

It is said that there are nine circles of hell. The fifth circle is for those who have committed the sin of anger. Their eternal punishment is to be drowning in the river Styx, clawing at each other to try to get to the top. There is a painting of this circle of hell, _La Barque de Dante._ Or at least, that is what they teach at the Garden Art History Course.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The first time it happened, Squall was in the training center with Irvine.

"So, Squall…" Irvine began.

Squall just wanted to get some training in, not have to listen to the man. The Commander just grunted.

"So, as Commander, would you give Selphie permission to move into my room? Or, maybe, we could even get one of the fancy one-bedroom suites?" Irvine shot his rifle at a faraway grat.

Squall shrugged, "I don't care."

Irvine smirked, "Yeah, I mean you have Rinoa all the ti—a heh heh," He stopped himself, knowing that bringing up any private dealings their illustrious Commander had with a certain Sorceress was asking for it. It was asking to be sent on the worst mission imaginable.

Squall sliced his gunblade through a T-Rexaur, "Quistis might care though. So will Cid."

Irvine smirked confidently, "I can take care of those two."

Squall snorted at the comment but felt the need to point out the loophole that allowed him certain _privileges_. "Rinoa still has her own room." Technically, anyway. Truthfully, she hadn't slept there for months.

The pause in training caused the pair to be distracted, distracted enough that another T-Rexaur came charging at them out of nowhere. It was too close for Irvine to shoot and Squall didn't have time to raise his blade, instead a flare spell burst from his hand, killing it in one hit.

"Whoa, bud!" Irvine exclaimed, the acrid stench of the ends of his hair—singed—whizzing past him, "That was _powerful_. You must have Siren equipped!"

"Whatever," Squall shrugged. The truth of the matter was that Squall hadn't equipped GFs since Time Compression, almost a year ago. He had already lost too much, he didn't want to chance losing a single memory again, especially not those with Rinoa. He also began to distrust the GFs themselves, as he reflected on _why_ Cid had pushed their use on elite SeeDs. Was it possible the memories weren't just being erased, but stolen? Ever since the celebratory ball ages ago, he had begun to distrust the man. He was one of those people, who, in conversation, was obvious he wasn't giving you his real motive. Plus, he was a coward, the events with NORG made that clear. That trait made him…dangerous. Cowards die many times before their deaths, after all.

Not using GFs, Squall no longer used para-magic, not that he needed it anyway. He had a Sorceress as a lover. So, it came as a huge surprise when a spell flew through his hands. He was extremely careful to not let his face betray his thoughts in front of Irvine. This was exactly the type of information he did not want Cid to have.

After they finished their training and showered, Squall headed back to his office and sank into his leather chair behind his desk, closing his eyes and letting his head lean back and rest. It was a rare moment of vulnerability at first glance, but in reality, Squall was playing every detail of the day in his head to try to determine the source of the flare spell he had unwittingly cast. Was it possible Rinoa was nearby and he was able to use her magic when she was close? A wicked grin crossed his lips as he recalled seeing Rinoa earlier that day, and what he had done in the very leather chair he was now sitting in just before meeting Irvine.

Behind the princess, ingénue, naïve exterior, Rinoa turned out to be far kinkier and more adventurous than anyone would have thought. And Squall was a downright exhibitionist. The idea of getting caught and of trying his damndest to make Rinoa wake the dead with her screams turned him on to no end. Ironically, the only time they _had_ been caught wasn't even in public. It was in Rinoa's seldomly used dorm room. Apparently, Irvine and Selphie were looking for a place to fool around. Eons before, Rinoa had foolishly entrusted Selphie with the extra card to her dorm room "just in case" for Angelo. When Selphie and Irvine stumbled in the door giggling they were greeted with the sight of Squall's bare ass, a lot of fabric rustling, and a very red and very embarrassed Rinoa clinging sheets up to her chin. Squall sent Selphie and Irvine on an extremely cold, extremely unpleasant mission to Trabia the very next day.

Squall brought a finger to his grinning lips as he remembered their last encounter, even thinking about it seemed to enhance his senses. The Commander could practically smell Rinoa's pleasure in the air from earlier in the day. He squeezed his hands, desire making its way to his fingers. Rinoa had been riding him in this very same leather chair mere hours ago, allowing him to lean back and enjoy the view, and enjoy not having to do any of the work.

While Squall generally liked to have control in bed, every once and a while he would concede some to her, especially in a moment like that. The view was worth giving it up-the sweat droplets gleaming on her collar bone, dripping into that magnificent valley between her breasts. She was biting her lower lip to stifle her moans, her brilliant alabaster skin flushed. The angle she was able to get almost made him cross-eyed with pleasure. It also made his hands free to do some exploring of their own, his touches burning on her skin, branding her. Fire dancing from his fingertips as it left red raw marks briefly across her exposed body.

That had been his glorious view right before heading to the training center. In fact, Xu had called him mid-coitus on the intercom to remind him of his appointment with Irvine.

" _Did you hear me, Squall?"_ Xu had sounded skeptical.

"Yes," He grunted out hoarsely, "Gods… _yes_!" He was crushing Rinoa's shaking body to his, groaning his response into her shoulder as he finished inside of her. His words weren't meant for Xu at all.

" _Um, okay, copy,"_ Xu responded. She reflected that he sounded sick and should probably see Kadowaki soon.

Once the intercom had shut off, Rinoa was laughing hysterically in his arms, and even stoic Squall had let out a rare laugh, smiling as he hugged her body to his.

Squall snorted at the memory, eyes closed as he replayed the events in his head. He sank further back into the comfortable chair. It still smelled uniquely of Rinoa, though he swore he could smell her more keenly anyway, like a bloodhound. He could smell everywhere she had been, what she ate, if she changed her laundry detergent.

Never again would Squall be able to sit in this chair and not think about their completely inappropriate behavior right under the Garden faculty's noses. The Commander laughed out loud before tackling the pile of emails he had waiting. His theory about the flare spell would have to be researched another time.

* * *

Later that night that, Squall was sitting up against his headboard, Rinoa's inky hair spread out against his chest as she used him as a pillow. She was ethereal, practically glowing in the aftermath. He could feel the pleasure rolling off her in waves. Her eyes were closed, he had worn her out. Squall was frowning deep in thought as he reached for a cigarette from the pack he kept in the bedside table. A nasty habit, but a majority of cadets at Garden smoked. It was a stress relief from a stressful existence. Even ever-in-control Quistis smoked, though of course, she smoked from one of those cigarette holders so the smell didn't get on her hands. And she liked menthol.

Placing the stick in his mouth, he held his fingers to the end and snapped experimentally. A small fire spell came from his fingers and lit the cigarette. _Natural magic_. Rinoa didn't notice. Her eyes were closed and she was near sleep. That didn't stop her sense of smell, however.

"I wish you wouldn't do that inside," she mumbled into his chest.

Squall hmphed and took a drag, rubbing an arm along her back, reveling in the feel of her skin, small sparks bouncing off it into his fingertips. He placed the cigarette in front of her lips, offering her a puff. She cracked one eye open to look up at him, leaned forward and took a few drags as he held it to her mouth. Once she was satisfied, she waved a hand dismissively. Squall rolled his eyes at her with a small smirk, bringing the cigarette back to his lips once again.

Rinoa was now walking her fingers across his washboard abs. "You have a balcony, you know."

Squall blew smoke towards the ceiling, "Yes, but to use that, I would have to put on pants." He wiggled his hips playfully.

Rinoa snorted, "Well, we wouldn't want that now, would we?" She turned over in his arms to face her nightstand, waiting for him to embrace her once he finished his cigarette.

Squall took one last drag and smashed the butt out in the ashtray he kept in his nightstand drawer. Obligingly he spooned Rinoa, inhaling into her hair deeply.

"Rinoa," he whispered in her ear.

"Squall?"

"Rinoa…" his hand was running up her side now.

"Babe, I'm exhausted," she murmured, half asleep.

Squall felt incredibly smug. "Not that," he stopped his hand to rest around her waist, "I need to go to Winhill next week."

Rinoa stiffened in his arms and opened her eyes to peer back at him. "What?"

"I need to go to _Winhill_."

"But…but, I thought you hated Winhill."

"I don't _hate_ it…I just…" Squall sighed deeply. Truth be told, he avoided that _place_ like the plague. Far too many emotions stirred up there. Yes, it was his birthplace—but it was also where his mother died. Where his life changed. Where he was…abandoned. "I…have a meeting."

"With who?"

"It doesn't matter. But, if it goes well, you'll soon have one less thing to worry about."

Rinoa hummed knowingly. "Whatever you say, Commander Clandestine."

"Rinoa, do you trust me?" Squall whispered softly in her ear, as if he was afraid someone would hear.

"With my life." She answered without hesitation.

Squall pulled her close, and they soon fell into a blissful, dreamless sleep.

The next morning Rinoa awoke alone. It wasn't an uncommon occurrence; Squall typically rose before the sun to either work out or catch up on paperwork. You could take the man out of the soldier, but not the soldier out of the man. The truth was, Squall had an early morning appointment to keep that he wasn't keen on sharing with anyone. It was an appointment he had been keeping weekly for some months now.

* * *

Two gunblades crashed together, sparks flying in the air. Neither opponent would cede any space and they broke away, glaring at each other from a short distance, pacing around each other in circles like caged animals. It was a weekly ritual that took place at the very cliffs where they had given each other matching scars. Seifer was the only person alive who could really give Squall a run for his money, and Squall was eager to practice his craft.

Seifer turned his foot slightly and Squall knew he was ready to parry again. They had dueled long enough where they knew their moves intimately and could predict behavior. Squall sidestepped the strike and swung around with a backfist, knocking Seifer in the nose.

They pushed away again, panting. Seifer smirked as blood dripped down from one nostril, "Man, you're in a cranky mood today. Rinoa not letting you burn off any energy with her? Not putting out?" He knew that would piss him off, which is exactly what he wanted. An emotional Squall gave him a better chance of winning their weekly duels. Rinoa was Squall's greatest strength and therefor his greatest weakness. His _liability._

Squall narrowed his eyes and growled slightly, sliding forward. Seifer expected him to jab with his gunblade, so it came as a surprise when a blind spell temporarily stole his vision. The next thing he knew, his arm was pinned behind his back with more strength than he realized Squall had. He was twisting his arm below the elbow and Seifer knew that if he moved slightly or if Squall applied any more torque his arm would be broken.

"That was a mistake," Squall said icily in his ear.

Seifer silently—and quickly—weighed his options. He needed leverage in order to break free. But to do so would temporarily make him vulnerable to any number of anticipatory counter attacks—of which he knew Squall had several. Finally deciding, he whispered, "Oh…I don't think so, Puberty Boy."

He flipped his head forward, slamming his skull into Squall's face. The headbutt surprised the Commander, causing him to loosen his grip just enough for Seifer to break free. Blood poured from Squall's nose—most certainly broken. Scarlet stained his chin, dribbling from a newly split lip.

Squall let out a string of colorful language that would have made a sailor blush. He held a hand over his nose, the sticky blood soaking his gloves, the tell-tale metallic taste on his tongue.

Seifer was eyeing him carefully, wondering if a retaliation was coming. Squall had been less predictable today.

Instead of attacking again Squall just began to laugh manically, turning his head to the sky as he guffawed, blood staining his white shirt.

Seifer observed him with curiosity, knowing full well Squall probably felt he was being annoying. His arm tingled, and he shook it out, willing the pins and needles to subside. Seifer understood the rage in his counterpart, and the source. He understood the need for an outlet and had been happy to oblige. After all, Seifer still liked to stick it to Squall whenever he could. "Here," Seifer fished out a potion, as well as casting a cure spell on his opponent. Squall quickly jerked his nose back into place with a sickening crack.

"Squall," Seifer began, knowing he had to tread lightly, "You gotta get control of that, or you're going to end up hurting _her._ "

Squall scoffed as he went to retrieve his gunblade. His voice was a harsh whisper as he walked away. "I'll never hurt her."

"Not on purpose," Seifer said softly at his retreating form, too soft for Squall to hear.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to _my_ Commander Clandestine, the illustrious **bebedora** and her awesome beta skills.
> 
> The painting _La Barque de Dante_ or sometimes called _Dante and Virgil in Hell_ is by Eugene Delacroix and can be seen at the Louvre in Paris. It pointed to the ending of Neo-Classicism in Art and a movement to Romanticism.


	4. Wrath

**Mortal Sin**

**Chapter 3: Wrath**

Wrath is a tricky emotion. It is beyond anger, it is a fury that is disproportionate to the injustice. There is a painting they study in the Art History course at Garden, _Prometheus Bound_ , which depicts the wrath of the gods. The Titan, Prometheus, despite helping Zeus become king of the gods, made the mistake of giving mortals fire. Enraged, Zeus ordered him to be chained to a rock and have his regenerating liver perpetually gouged by an eagle. Apparently, Prometheus angered the wrong god.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Grass blowing in the wind, the scent of flowers wafting all around him. A chocobo trail, well-worn, crossing sign having seen decades of weathering at the hands of the elements. The town square was quiet, but he knew the residents were watching him from the safety of their small homes and businesses. He didn't belong here. He never belonged here.

The only redeeming part of Winhill was Raine. Hell, even the townsfolk felt that way. When Squall went to Winhill in his own body, he was disappointed to find out that the compensatory feature of a Podunk town was now a ghost. That sealed the deal on his aversion of the place.

Then, when he found out it was the site of his birth and abandonment-it became an albatross. Winhill was an albatross that Squall wore around his neck – a burden, a yoke - and he would have been perfectly happy never having to set foot in the damn place again.

Unfortunately, however, he had work to do.

Despite his repugnance of Winhill, Squall was hopeful. He knew Laguna wanted to please him. That had been made clear by the many messages, emails, phone calls, smoke signals, carrier pigeons, and Ellone-related interventions.

Only for Rinoa, would Squall suffer having to travel to Hyne-forsaken Winhill.

For Rinoa, he would tolerate a conversation with _that_ man.

Squall knew Laguna could be reasonable. Certainly, the President would want to aid the love of the Commander's life. Of his _son's_ life. Laguna would certainly see it his way. After all, Laguna lost the love of his life, wouldn't he want to protect his son from the same fate?

He opted to not take the Ragnarok, as it was a fairly high profile ship, and technically belonged to Esthar. Instead, Squall traveled in a small airship that he parked some distance between Timber and Winhill. A good hike would do him good. He was used to camping under the stars, and the time alone was a welcomed reprieve from his hectic schedule as Commander. Squall enjoyed the peace and quiet. He also needed to have his mind clear and composed for the conversation he was anticipating. While he missed Rinoa's warm body next to his, he knew it was better to do this alone. Rinoa had a bad habit of interfering with these sorts of things. Or she would annoyingly defend Laguna and Squall would cave into her.

He stopped underneath a large maple tree to pull out his rations for lunch. Squall smirked as he pulled out fresh Gouda, brie, and cheddar, a baguette, some sliced meats and various seasonal fruits. _Rinoa_. Of course. The Commander had packed himself a Garden-issued MRE that resembled regurgitated dogfood that even Angelo would turn a nose to. Rinoa, apparently, had decided that wasn't a real meal and set off to pack him something different. Squall could hear her voice in his head, chiding him that cigarettes and Bordeaux, plus the occasional granola bar or apple wasn't a real diet.

Squall enjoyed his lunch under the shade of the tree, reflecting on what was to come, eager and optimistic for the future. He was relaxed after the meal and before he knew it, he had uncharacteristically dozed off, dreaming vividly.

* * *

_Rinoa had been waiting patiently by the Sorceress Memorial for him, as instructed. It was eerily empty, no guards present since it wasn't in use._

_Squall stalked up to her, fire dancing off his skin._

" _I need you," he said, his tone almost begging._

_Rinoa gave him a small smile. "I'm right here," she gestured with her hands out._

_Squall shook his head and grabbed her by her upper arms, "No. I_ _**need** _ _you." He needed to feel as much of her pure cleansing skin on his. He had never desired her as much as he did in that single moment._

_He finally understood_ _**everything** _ _._

_Squall shoved her shirt above her breasts and pushed her face-first against the metal wall of the Sorceress Memorial. Within seconds, her skirt had been hoisted far above her waist. He ripped his own shirt off and ground himself against her back, his persuasive hand snaking around and pressing his warm palm against her flat stomach._

_The cold metal wall of the memorial was refreshing against her chest, a welcome relief from Squall's scorching skin. She could feel the familiar steel of his Greiver pendant digging into her spine, trapped between their bodies. Everywhere his skin was touching hers felt like it was being burned. As if her skin would peel off, the places Squall was touching her were downright blistering. It reminded her of the time she didn't listen to Selphie and got horrible sunburn on Balamb beach after skipping sunscreen._

_It was if he had a fever._

" _Gods, Rinoa," his breath was now on her ear, his hard, bare chest pressed against her back._

_She whimpered slightly as he shifted to lift up her hips and entered her roughly._

_Squall was in a frenzy, Rinoa now flush against the memorial, her hands flat against the wall clawing at the smooth steel, desperately trying to grip at anything to keep her grounded. She felt like she could float away._

_He was whispering huskily into her hair, his body almost unbearably close as he made love to her. Greiver kept digging harder into her spine._

" _You're a goddess…" He kept repeating._

" _You should be worshiped."_

" _Let me be the one…"_

_Fucking Rinoa, Hyne's gift to the world, was_ _**absolution** _ _._

_Rinoa swore she saw stars flash in front of her eyes as she trembled against the memorial, Squall's steady arm around her waist holding her tightly. She didn't even hear the words he was saying._

_He mercifully slowed down as she rode the high, Squall smirking in satisfaction._

_But, Rinoa knew he wasn't done with her yet. He wasn't finished._

_He moved his hand from her hip and reached up to cover her small hand in his own. Those tiny hands would never have to get dirty, they would never be stained with blood. He would protect her with everything he had._

" _You're mine," He stated gruffly in her ear. "Be mine."_

_Rinoa smiled, she was dizzy. "I'm yours…"_

_Squall shook his head nipped at her earlobe. "No."_

_Rinoa opened her eyes and craned her neck to look back at him. "No?"_

" _ **Be**_ _mine. Forever." He rubbed his fingers over her fourth finger purposefully, willing her to understand._

_Rinoa smiled and closed her eyes again. "Yes."_

" _Yes?"_

_She nodded. "Yes."_

_Squall hooted in pleasure and unpeeled Rinoa from the wall of the memorial, pulling her against his chest. He kissed her and was rewarded with a sweep of electricity from her lips._

_He urged to claim her again._

_Squall unceremoniously pushed her onto her knees and pressed into her again, howling like a wild dog in heat. He gripped onto her hips, intent on finishing what he started. His fingertips dug into her skin, leaving red marks._

_Rinoa was on her elbows, barely able to hold herself up, her face and hair in the dirt. Squall was in such a fury that it was_ _**almost** _ _painful. Almost. Sometimes Rinoa wondered if she was a masochist. She could now feel Greiver scraping up and down her back, almost comforting, as Squall rocked within her._

_There was a moment of rapture and Rinoa swore she might pass out, screaming his name loud enough for people miles away to hear. Letting them all know to whom she belonged. She could have died in that moment, and it would have been worth it._

_Ego well satisfied, Squall finished, grunting her name. Breathless, he reached down and brushed the hair from her face._

_She was smiling, content. His other hand was sweeping up her back, from the base of her spine up to her neck. It felt like blizzaga now, mercifully cold against her skin that, mere moments before, had felt like it was on fire. A witch being burned at the stake._

" _So, you'll be mine?" He asked again, softly this time, lovingly._

_Rinoa chuckled. "Yes," she repeated._

" _Good," Both hands were on her hair now, stroking it back. "Sleep," he whispered, casting the spell on her._

_She collapsed fully to the ground, sleeping soundly._

_He knew that when he made love to her he was able to draw her magic._ _**Her** _ _magic. That's why it was so powerful. He wondered if she realized it as well, but was going to keep the information to himself. He would never need GFs again._

_Squall stood proud before the memorial, Greiver shining in the moonlight against his bare chest, Rinoa peacefully asleep at his feet. He was surging with power, overflowing with confidence. Magic seeping from his pores._

_Suddenly, thunder boomed in the distance, and he realized he was dreaming. But the power didn't wane. It remained a part of him, steadfast and sure. He knew when he awoke, he'd retain all he taken from his lover._

_The hot Estharian desert wind whipped up, blowing sand into his face._

* * *

Rinoa thrashed on the couch, her book falling to the floor. Angelo jumped up and arched her back, the hairs on her body bristling. She growled at her mistress, staying back a safe distance.

Deep asleep, Rinoa's body sizzled with magic. Arcs of lightning raced over her clothes, her hair nearly standing on end. Flames flickered to life on her fingertips. The temperature of the room dropped to near freezing. Angelo was now barking at her.

Her eyes shot open and she cried out in ecstasy, hand flying to her chest, pressing firmly on her heart. It was beating madly. She grabbed for her necklace, fingering the familiar rings for comfort. Body ablaze with magic—and near painful pleasure—she trembled as she tried to calm down.

She could still feel Squall's body pressed against hers, sheathed within. His hands roaming, his breath hot in her ear. The feeling of fullness only he could impart on her. She could feel Greiver pressed almost uncomfortably on her spine. Her body tingled, her heart skipped a beat.

Despite how genuine it had felt, it had only been a dream. Wasn't it?

A dream.

Dream…

* * *

Squall awoke from his nap, power surging from him. He remembered every detail intimately. Rinoa's skin, her cries of pleasure, her _promise_. He could smell her on him. Rinoa had endowed upon him to finish what he came here to start, sparks unknowingly flying off his fingertips. He set off for his final destination.

He knew Laguna would be walking towards Raine's burial site. He did every year at this time -a pilgrimage to Winhill. Completely alone. Squall didn't want Kiros or Ward to be in the way, or Odine, or any of those stupid Estharian advisers.

He had planned to intercept Laguna and plead his case. _Her_ case. She would never do it for herself, and she never needed to know that he was doing it for her. He was sure he could change Laguna's mind if there weren't others around to whisper in his ear.

* * *

Laguna was pleasantly surprised to find Squall standing near Raine's gravestone when he arrived. He thought that his wayward son had finally heard his pleas and wanted to become family. Maybe Squall wanted to honor his mother. Laguna smiled warmly at Squall, a bouquet of fresh white lilies in his arms he was planning on placing at the grave.

"President Loire," Squall began.

Laguna's smile waned at the formal greeting. It wasn't as though he expected Squall to call him "dad" right away, but "Laguna" would have been nice. But these things took time. At least, that's what Ellone had told him.

"Squall, m'boy," Laguna started. He noted that Squall seemed…different. More commanding. It was as if he was a full foot taller than Laguna remembered. He felt his familiar leg cramp threatening to appear and figured he would bring up a _safe_ topic with his offspring. "It's wonderful to see you. How's that lovely girlfriend of yours?"

"That's why I'm here," Squall tersely said.

"For Rinoa?" Not Raine. Not Laguna. Laguna couldn't help the disappointment that flashed across his face.

"For me," Squall responded.

Laguna rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, I'm at your service then."

"I need the Sorceress Memorial destroyed or disabled. As long as it exists, Rinoa has to live in fear. _I_ have to live in fear." Never one for needless small talk, he got right to his point. He was hopeful that Laguna would be willing to destroy the Sorceress Memorial, or at least permanently decommission it. Squall figured that after the exposure of his birthright, Laguna would be eager to please him. To do _anything_ for him. It really wasn't that big of a request.

Laguna chuckled nervously, shifting Raine's bouquet from one hand to the other. He was hesitant, not only at the request, but at Squall's demeanor. "Squall, I can't destroy it, Rinoa won't be the last Sorceress, you know that. Even _if_ …um… _when_ she lives out her life, eventually another Sorceress may need to be frozen. Don't forget Adel." Laguna shook his head as he quietly added, "Esthar's Parliament would never allow it anyway."

Squall knitted his brow in frustration, pinching the bridge of his nose, "You're the President. Don't you have some executive rule? Can't you do _something_ to make people realize she isn't a threat? She couldn't hurt anyone. You've met her. You can see that."

"I know that son, I…." Laguna began.

Squall realized too late that coming there was a fatal mistake. The seething rage he felt under his skin was tangible in the air, sparks were prickling off his skin like small spells bursting. Something shattered within Squall upon hearing that word. Son. _Son_. As if Laguna cared for him the way a father should care for a _son_.

If Laguna cared for Squall, he would be doing anything within his power to protect Rinoa.

If Laguna loved Squall, he would love Rinoa like a daughter, like he loved Ellone.

If Laguna saw Squall as a _son_ it would be excruciatingly clear that Squall would rather die than be without Rinoa.

If Laguna wanted to save his son's _life,_ he would save his son's "life." What _gave_ his son life: Rinoa.

Squall felt the tingles of power that had surged within him when he woke up from his dream. It was as if the magic was consuming his brain, his ability to think rationally. He knew he was _invincible_. "Son? _Son?"_ Squall began to laugh hysterically and was stabbing his gunblade into the dirt, his knuckles white on the handle.

Laguna watched him warily, unsure of how Squall was going to act next. He clutched Raine's flowers a little tighter in his hands.

"Son? You _look_ for your son. You _care_. You…you care about the mother. You _try…_ " Squall paced frantically.

Laguna held out a hand to him, and the young man scoffed, hand clenching ever-tighter around the hilt of his weapon.

"Don't ever call me that again," Squall whispered harshly, coming to a stop from his pacing and bowing his head next to his mother's grave.

In that moment, Squall realized he resented Ellone. She was the one both Raine and Laguna loved. She was the child they wanted. She was the one Laguna saved. Not him. _Never_ him.

Laguna was taken aback. "Squall, I didn't know you were at the orphanage, I swear! I loved Raine, I thought you were dead with her. I didn't know until Ellone told me… Squall…I _do_ care. You're my _son_."

The combination of mentioning Raine, Ellone, and calling him 'son' did something to Squall. The flames that had been ebbing off his skin earlier burst and Squall saw nothing but red behind his eyelids. It was as if someone else was possessing his body and controlling his movements. He had never felt this amount of rage in his entire life, not even when he found out Rinoa had been possessed. It was like a white hot ember pulsating across his chest and up to his brain, stealing away any remnants of rational thought.

" _Do not call me that!_ "

His gunblade swung in a graceful, purposeful arc.

The next thing he knew, Laguna's cleanly decapitated head was rolling on the ground, the separated body twitching and convulsing next to it, the nerves still reacting despite being headless. Steam settled into the twilight air evaporating from the rapidly cooling corpse. The cut had been so precise and quick there wasn't even blood on Lionheart's blade. Raine's white lilies were scattered around the body like a chalk outline.

Squall stared, watching blood pool beneath the former president, seeping into the dirt. The blood was pulsating from the severed carotid artery, slowing quickly as the heart stopped pumping, no longer getting a signal from the brain. The granite headstone gleamed in the waning sunlight, only a small splatter of blood flecking on the pristine surface. A smirk crossed his lips and he felt a familiar power surge through his body.

A final awakening.

Tossing Laguna's headless body into the forest, he made quick work of the remains by charring them with a strong firaga spell. Squall still maintained the natural magic from his dream. Wild animals would get rid of the bones, and he was quite confident nothing would ever be found.

Squall returned to the macabre site, blood still staining the ground. He could smell the metallic stench keenly. He looked down at his feet, and into the haunting, lifeless eyes of Laguna Loire. Eyes that showed he never saw it coming. Grabbing the head of the man who had both given him life—and taken it away—he dragged it by the hair towards the airship. In his pocket, he ran his fingers over the silver band he had ripped from a dead hand. The last memento of his mother.

* * *

Squall knew he had to return to the scene of his dream. The scene of his awakening, his revelation. The dream that made him realize his ultimate supremacy as a Knight: The Sorceress Memorial.

They were all fools. Idiots. They had nothing to fear from her. She was never the one they should have been scared of.

Everything was crystal clear now. How hadn't he realized it before?

Squall carefully stacked some stones on the ground behind the memorial, the ground where she promised herself to him, dream or no dream. He now _owned_ her. He knew that. Him. A mere mortal. He had a goddess. He could still feel her influence brimming beneath his skin, magic oozing out of every pore.

Squall built a makeshift altar with the stones, finding a flat one to be at the surface. Thundaga coursing through a fingertip, he etched words on the topmost rock with his finger, barely discernible to the naked eye.

_Dies iræ, dies illa_ _  
_ _Solvet sæclum in favilla_

Everyone should be worshiping Rinoa. She was Hyne's descendant. Hyne's heir. He finally comprehended the power of the Sorceress.

Gods deserved sacrifices and he had one for her.

He buried Laguna's head in front of the altar, a _first_ gift for her, and quietly vowed to always protect her from her enemies.

He knew Hyne would forgive him, he was protecting her successor after all. And Rinoa. Rinoa was his path to absolution.

* * *

Claps of thunder awoke Rinoa in the wee hours of that night, jolting her from her sleep. She had been on edge ever since her dream of Squall the day before, but now she found herself relaxed.

Squall's familiar warm body was pressed behind her. He had come back and found his way to her. He always did. She closed her eyes again, content, fully relaxed now that he had returned. She unconsciously went to finger the rings she always kept around her neck. That brought her comfort.

A third band now hung on the chain.

She reverently ran her fingers over the offering that had appeared seemingly out of nowhere.

* * *

Laguna's disappearance from Winhill was international news in the days that followed. All kinds of theories, ranging from Galbadian assassins to Estharian separatists. Crashed into the sea. Purposely left the presidency, sick of the political drama. Even alien abduction.

A rainstorm the day after his demise washed the only evidence away. Streaks of crimson, rolling down the engraved surface of a lone headstone, seeping into the ground above the body of his beloved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to the amazing **bebedora** , my awesome beta! I would not have gotten through this scene without her!
> 
> _Prometheus Bound_ is a by Peter-Paul Rubens and can be seen at the Philadelphia Museum of Art in the United States.
> 
> _Dies iræ, dies illa, Solvet sæclum in favilla_ is latin for: "Day of wrath, the world turns to ash."


	5. Excess (Or Greed Part 1)

**Mortal Sin**

**Chapter 4: Excess (or Greed Part 1)**

Greed is a sin which leads those to hoard their resources. A greedy person never wants to share their belongings and is fearful to even use them. Cronos, the titan god, was driven by greed. This greed led him to be fearful of his own children overthrowing his power. So, as each was born, he ate them. There is a painting that depicts Cronos eating his young that an eccentric man painted on the walls of his house, _Saturno devorando a su hijo._ Or at least, that’s what they teach in Garden’s Art History course.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

To say that Squall Leonhart had been a complete asshole for a week would be an understatement. Commander Asshat was what he was called in _public._ The titles for him whispered privately within the walls of Garden were far worse. 

The man was _testy_ at best _._ Seriously testy. He had barked at anyone he crossed paths with and had been sending people on awful missions at the drop of a hat. He also had spent a lot more time than normal holed up in his office burning through multiple cartons of cigarettes or killing grats in the training room.

Quistis made the mistake of reminding him of the smoking ban in the training center and people didn’t see her for three days. When she returned, she mumbled something about Dollet and moombas and never tried to remind Commander Douche Canoe (Selphie’s name for him) of rules again.

Some speculated that perhaps Commander Micropenis (Irvine’s name) was upset that his estranged father had disappeared once again. Abandoning him once more. No one suspected Squall’s involvement in that disappearance.

Irvine remarked that he probably hadn’t gotten laid in a while. That was partially true. Irvine was wise enough to not say anything to Squall’s face.

Rinoa had been gone for over a week in Deling City. There was an event to honor General Caraway and she had to be there. Because of work, Squall could not join her. This led to two problems. First, Squall was extremely nervous about letting her be alone. He didn’t trust that someone from Esthar might try something. Or worse, someone from Garden. Specifically, someone from Garden who knew Squall couldn’t be watching her every moment of the day. Cid was gone as well, which made the whole thing even more suspicious. Secondly, he missed her physical presence. Rinoa was an intoxicating drug. The best drug in the entire world, and the high he got from being with her was more powerful than any weapon he had ever wielded. He hadn’t been away from her this long in over two years, since their adventure began. 

Missing her physically was causing dear Commander ButtFuck (Quistis’ term) to be downright bitchy. He didn’t have a _fix_. Even worse, Rinoa also hadn’t come to him in his dreams. He had been waiting for her, and she didn’t come. 

He was… _restless._

Squall did not like the idea of Rinoa being on her own unprotected. He knew that in reality, Caraway was probably the second safest person for her to be with after himself. Despite the fact that he loathed the man, and the feeling was mutual, he knew Caraway loved his daughter. Caraway would sooner die than let anything happen to Rinoa. It was probably why Caraway put up with Squall in Rinoa’s life. They had a single thing in common: keep Rinoa alive and well. They both loved her and could at least see eye to eye on that.

Squall also knew that Rinoa would scoff at the idea of him sending Zell or Irvine-- or even Selphie-- with her to be a bodyguard. She would argue with him and claim it was unnecessary and in the end probably get her way.

But Squall, being the Commander Poop Face (Zell was never the most creative nor the meanest) that he was, always had a backup plan. 

* * *

Rinoa hated Deling City almost as much as Squall hated Winhill. The place held no fond memories. Her mother died in Deling City. Her father distanced himself from her in Deling City. 

She was _alone_ in Deling City.

While in Esthar, people whispered behind her back because of the Lunar Cry. In Deling City they whispered behind her back of being the daughter of a great general. It wasn’t kind whispers either. Princess. Brat. Spoiled. Reckless. Stupid. Poor little rich girl…

Rinoa didn’t like Caraway, that much was obvious, but deep down she respected him. Even though she would never admit it out loud. For that reason, and because Squall told her it was important to go, she arrived at her father’s mansion for the celebration of his jubilee as General.

“Caraway.” She didn’t try and hide the disdain in her voice.

“Rinoa.”

“How’s the army?” Rinoa forced arbitrary small talk, ensuring her tone was perfectly uninterested.

“How’s the _mercenary?_ ” The word was spit out of Caraway’s mouth like it was poison.

“Perfect in _every_ way.” She raised her eyebrows in defiance and smirked ever so slightly.

“Damn. I was hoping he was dead.” Caraway scowled in obvious irritated disappointment.

That was about the extent of the conversation they would have for the entire week.

Fury Caraway watched his estranged daughter flounce away and sighed. It had been over two and a half years since he had last seen her, the day of the attempted assassination on the Sorceress. Gone was all of the baby fat in her cheeks, she now had sharp angles and defined high cheekbones. Gone were her bangs, once holding golden highlights. Her hair now cascaded down her back like an ebony veil. And at some point since she’d left home, she’d also left her old body behind. She had taken on the shapely curves of a grown woman, no longer the young girl he remembered. She looked so much like Julia, Caraway’s heart ached.

Rinoa huffed up the stairs and opened the door to her childhood room. The house hadn’t changed since Julia’s death. Rinoa always figured it was Caraway’s way of keeping her mother alive in the house. Rinoa recalled once playing the piano in Julia’s private study. She was five or six. She just wanted to play mommy’s piano. She had played a single chord before Fury stormed into the room and screamed at her to get out of there and never come back. He was so forceful that she was reduced to tears. She learned very early that some things in the house were _untouchable._ The piano in the parlor was safe, in Julia’s study, not so much. Her childhood bedroom hadn’t changed much either. It still resembled something that a ten or eleven-year-old might stay in, complete with her stuffed animal collection. As she opened her bedroom door sulkily, dreading the week to come, an extremely unexpected unwelcomed guest greeted her.

“Seifer?”

Sitting smack dab in the center of her canopy bed, the man in the silver trench coat polished his gunblade with utter disregard of his surroundings. A tiny drop of gun oil dripped onto the duvet. “Well hello there, Princess.”

“What in Hyne are you doing here? My father will have you shot on sight!” Rinoa knew that there was only one person that Caraway hated more than Squall, and that was Seifer. Well, maybe the two were equal in the General’s eyes.

Seifer smirked and patted the spot next to him on the bed. “Shot? I don’t think so, Duchess. The man hired me.” 

Well, that was a half-truth. There was another party at play that had sent Seifer to Deling City in his stead, and had helped convince Caraway that Rinoa needed extra protection. Seifer knew that Rinoa would not like the idea of Squall sending any bodyguard after her, _especially_ not Seifer, so he figured it best to leave out Squall’s involvement. 

Rinoa being the one thing Squall and Caraway could see eye-to-eye on (not including her living arrangements or her relationships), Squall had an easy time convincing Caraway to hire Seifer to watch her. Seifer, being a former Knight, was the best choice. Seifer had the best training. Deep down, despite everything, Squall knew that Seifer _cared_ about Rinoa and would keep her safe. No matter how much of an asshole Seifer acted like in the process. Squall would never refer to it as “trust”, but it was something. 

Warrior code, perhaps.

* * *

Squall was staring intensely into black eyes. Black eyes that belonged to a certain plucky green Guardian Force.

“What’s your secret?” He muttered to himself as he poked the ruby in the center of Carbuncle’s forehead.

He tried rubbing the ruby, nothing happened.

He tapped it like a button, nothing happened.

He held up a scanning device, nothing happened.

The man even held up the GF like it was a piggy bank and shook it around like something would fall out. 

Carbuncle was non-plussed, his ears flopping around as he was manhandled. 

Squall had carefully inspected him for any accessories or implants. No collar with a tracking implement, nothing hidden beneath its green fur. Nothing stuffed in its ears. The Commander was convinced that the GFs were feeding information to Cid. If the GFs stripped their memories, the memories had to go _somewhere_. He figured Carbuncle would be the easiest one to solve, having Doomtrain in his office seemed like an extremely bad idea.

“Stupid Pikachu-looking fucker…” Squall grumbled at the beast.

He had been fussing with the thing for over three hours and _nothing._ At one point, Carbuncle had even bitten his hand. He didn’t dare junction, not wanting Cid to get any wind of what he was investigating. 

Finally, with no results and a bleeding wound on his palm, Squall settled for the next best thing.

What he _really_ wanted to do was tear the stupid ruby of the smug GF’s face and firaga the creature until all was left was some tufts of singed green fur. Alas, he did not have any natural magic with Rinoa being away and not coming to him in his dreams.

Instead, he locked the vermin in a closet in his office, figuring he would deal with the vile Pikachu fucker later. It wouldn’t bode well if Cid noticed the GF didn’t exist anymore anyway.

* * *

About a week into her stay in Deling, Rinoa finally had a dream. It was the first time she had been able to fall into a deep sleep, thanks to some external help. Her dream that was so vivid it reminded her of the dream at the Sorceress Memorial.

_Squall smiled gently at Rinoa as she walked towards him, holding out a hand for her to take. “I’ve been waiting for you.”_

_They were in the flower fields of Centra where he had promised to be her Knight._

_Rinoa took his hand and held it to her face. “I’m sorry I made you wait, I always promised to come here. I haven’t been sleeping well”_

_Squall shook his head., “It’s okay.” He pulled her into an embrace._

_Rinoa hugged him tightly. “Red wine and sleeping pills help me get back to your arms.” She was wearing short blue slip that she normally wore for nightwear._

_Squall was shirtless and in pajama pants with chocobos on them. He smiled down at her and ran his hands along her bare arms._

_“I need you,” he whispered into her hair, before leaning down and kissing her._

_“I’ve needed you.” He murmured again against her lips._

_“I was waiting…”_

_Rinoa shuddered, and it felt as if she were suddenly inside of his thoughts. Squall knew he was dreaming. He was acutely aware. Images of himself waiting for her in this very flower field, night after night since she’d been gone. **Alone.** He had been disappointed, angry with her even when she hadn’t appeared. But now, finally, she was here. He was pacified. Squall’s entire mind was alight with passion and lust. _

_Was she asleep too?_

_No, she couldn’t be. She was back in Deling City, reading a book in her bed. It was after midnight, yes, but she hadn’t been tired. She had been having trouble falling asleep since she left Garden. As she tried to determine what was happening, the feeling of rough, insistent lips against her exposed skin jolted her back to the moment._

_Fuck trying to figure this out._

_Squall kissed down her neck and began to push the spaghetti strap of her nightie off of her shoulders as he kissed along the collarbone. “As nice as this is…” he whispered in between gentle kisses, “…you don’t need it.”_

_The slip pooled at her feet and she stepped out of it._

_He was slowly pulling them to the ground, easing Rinoa onto his lap. “I love you,” he murmured as he continued to kiss down the valley in between her breasts. Squall’s lips felt like ice. A cool burn that felt soothing under the sun in the flower field._

_“Stay with me.”_

_“I want you…”_

_“Please.” His tone was almost pleading._

_Squall shifted her in his lap and Rinoa gasped as he filled her. They gently made love. Squall guided her hips in an agonizingly slow and almost lazy rhythm. He obviously wanted to savor every second of their reunion._

_It was bliss. Squall’s lips and fingers continued an icy burning assault against her flushed skin. Magic seeped out of her with every stroke._

_With every thrust he felt more powerful._

_With every thrust, she felt more hypnotized._

_Squall gathered her ebony tresses in his hand and gently tugged her hair back to expose the soft milky-white skin of her throat so he could kiss her there._

_Rinoa was now begging, wanting release. “Please…” she moaned, her throat vibrating against Squall’s lips. “Squall. Please.”_

_“I know…” He answered against her._

_She climaxed, **hard**. Squall finished with her and collapsed on his back, pulling her on top of him._

_As they tumbled to the ground, Rinoa finally accepted the fact that she was dreaming. Though, she also realized, it was something more than just a dream. She knew as she was falling asleep within the dream, vanishing away, that she would wake up back in Deling._

_“I will see you in the next life,” she murmured almost singing into Squall’s chest._

_“Hm?” Squall murmured._

_“The song.” Rinoa chuckled softly before falling asleep on Squall’s chest_

_As Rinoa faded away into sleep within her dream she was pulled back into reality. She could feel Squall’s heat, hear his heart thrumming in his chest. Smell his masculinity lingering in the aftermath of their lovemaking. She sensed Squall’s contentment. His Bliss._

_His power._

_His raw energy._

_His ecstasy._

_His… **invicibility**_ **.**

_The heavenly calming sunshine of the flower fields beamed down on them._

* * *

Seifer jerked awake to the sound of Angelo growling in the hallway. Rinoa took that stupid dog everywhere. 

He jumped out of bed with lightening speed and dashed out into the hall. His room was directly across from Rinoa’s. Angelo was clawing at her mistress’s door.

Gripping Hyperion tightly in his hand, Seifer quietly turned the knob and snuck into the room, ready to surprise any intruder.

He was not prepared for what he saw… or felt.

Rinoa’s room was freezing. Surely it wasn’t this cold outside. Did she have a window open? Seifer glanced at the window and noticed frost rapidly appearing on the glass. He could see his breath in the darkness.

He darted his eyes towards Rinoa. She was thrashing in her bed. Her eyes were closed and she was clearly asleep. Her body began to sit up in bed with her head tilted back almost as if she was possessed. _Again._ Phantom strings were pulling her up like a puppet. Her lips were completely blue from the cold and her hot breaths were rapidly evaporating in the air. She panted, her breaths coming too fast.

Seifer watched as the straps of her nightgown were pushed down her shoulders by ghostly invisible hands. He was quite certain no one else was in the room. The sound of his chattering teeth was painfully audible.

Rinoa rocked against a phantom specter, her mouth hanging open, her hands gripping thin air. Her body shuddered, her hips instinctively opening themselves to enveloping passion.

Then she did the last thing Seifer was expecting. She let out the most pleasurable moan he had ever heard in his life.

Pure ecstasy.

The room continued to get colder, but Seifer could not tear his eyes away from her. She continued to moan in front of him in her sleep. She bounced and writhed on her bed, her legs trembling as she desperately tried to keep up with someone. _Something._ Sweat beaded on her skin, only to freeze seconds later. There were now snowflakes on her eyelashes and her hair was turning to icicles. 

And then _it_ happened.

“ _Squall_ ,” Rinoa groaned in pleasure as her eyes shot open and she went to grasp at the rings she always kept around her neck. Her other hand slammed against her breast right above her heart. As if she were feeling for a beat, trying to calm herself.

Seifer narrowed his eyes, watching from the shadows. The second Rinoa woke up the coldness disappeared. Her lips returned to pink, the frost on the window vanished.

She let out a satisfied, totally spent breath and collapsed back onto her bed. Seifer couldn’t help but notice an obvious souvenir of her arousal on her nightgown. Rinoa moaned once more and rolled on to her side, her arm flopping off to the side of the bed. There was a content smile on her tired face. She was asleep.

Seifer quietly exited the room unnoticed, frowning in concern.

* * *

The morning after Rinoa’s intense erotic dream, she was eating cereal in the kitchen of Caraway’s mansion. She was joined, much to her displeasure, by Seifer. She had been humming a tune as she ate. One Seifer recognized but couldn’t put a finger to. Seifer had an annoying knowing smirk on his face. 

“So…” He began as he poured milk into his own cereal. “Sleep well?” 

Rinoa grunted in response. Squall’s non-verbalness had been rubbing off on her.

Seifer casually brought the spoon to his mouth, “Good… _dream?”_ He questioned, eyeing her up.

The blush that spread across Rinoa’s nose and cheeks made it obvious to Seifer that she remembered her dream very clearly. Rinoa cleared her throat.

“Whatever.” She responded. “Have nice dreams of a certain _Professor Trepe?_ ”

Squall really had rubbed off on her.

Rinoa started to bring her spoon to her mouth again, but was thwarted by Seifer’s hand on her own.

For once, his voice held none of its usual sarcasm or taunting. “Rinoa,” he said seriously. “Be careful.” He paused. “ _Please_.”

It was the “please” that made Rinoa know that Seifer was serious. She shook her head and tossed her bowl in the sink. As she marched out of the kitchen she remarked, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Oh, but I think you do.” Seifer responded softly as he watched her rapidly retreating form.

“ _I think you’re crazy, maybe_.” He remembered the song she had been humming earlier.

As Rinoa set off to shower, Seifer took the opportunity to sneak back into her bedroom and look around for any other signs of what had happened the night before. What he stumbled upon were prescription bottles: Diazepam. Then another: Trazadone.

It wasn’t the prescriptions themselves that were concerning, Sefier knew that Kadowaki encouraged Rinoa to take medications. Cid suggested it might help her transition her sorceress powers, and possibly help her learn to control them. Seifer didn’t know enough about the prescriptions to know their strength or appropriateness, but he knew they caused sedation based on the droopy eyed warning label. He mentally memorized the names, determined to do research later. 

Seifer inspected the bottles carefully. He then did a double-take, and his stomach turned.

The name of the prescribing doctor glared back at him. _Odine_. 

For the first time in his life, Seifer was genuinely worried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First and foremost, I thank my beta, **bebedora**. She was instrumental in this chapter  
> Saturno devorando a su hijo or “Saturn devouring his son” is a painting by Francisco Goya. After going deaf from illness late in his life he purchased a house in Madrid that was literally called “Villa of the Deaf Man”. The previous occupant had also been deaf. There he painted fourteen paintings directly onto the walls of the house – very different than his previous work, likely representing Goya coming to grips with his own mortality as well as the civil disruption that was taking place in Spain at the time. Curators managed to put the paintings onto canvas and this one is at the Prado.  
> I do not own the song “Motion Picture Soundtrack”. That belongs to the amazing band Radiohead. If you listen to the acoustic version with just Thom Yorke and piano, I could picture it as a melancholy Julia Heartily song as she pines for Laguna.


	6. Greed

**Mortal Sin**

**Chapter 5: Greed**

The fourth circle of hell is reserved for those who are guilty of the sin of greed. They are guarded by the god Plutus, though they are too preoccupied to try and leave. There, they attempt to push around huge rocks, manifestations of their possessions, in an attempt to attack each other. So wrapped up are they with their “possession” they do not notice anything or anyone. There is a painting that depicts the death of a greedy man, _Death and the Miser._ The miser is shown hoarding his worldly belongings, and yet, he too is greeted by the inevitable: the punishment of painful death. His greed preventing mercy from above. At least, that’s what they teach at the Art History course at Garden.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cid Kramer was a greedy man. Cid Kramer was a coward. Cid Kramer was a… _liability._

Icy blue eyes shot open, tendrils of magic dispersing as he blinked the fog of sleep from his mind. His dream had ended, Rinoa was gone. But the magic – remained. He was empowered, energy literally tingling at his fingertips. Clutching his hand to contain the power, the lights in his apartment flickered slightly. It was a clear message of what his next move should be. 

Hyne needed another _sacrifice._

* * *

“Edea, dear, the tea is ready.” Cid Kramer took the kettle off the orphanage stove. 

The kitchen was quiet, his surroundings peaceful. Far cry from the hustle and bustle of Balamb Garden – and it was just how he liked it. He figured he would officially retire soon. Honestly, he hadn’t been back at Garden in months. Most of the cadets and staff considered him retired, he had basically handed over the Garden (without asking if they wanted it) to Quistis, Xu, Nida, and Squall. 

Squall.

There was a slight problem there. Squall was the feather in his cap, his greatest accomplishment. Cid had been putting motions into place to make sure the Commander would have his head on straight and the distraction of the Sorceress would not be in his way. Even though Cid himself had been married to a Sorceress, he held no warm feelings towards Rinoa. She was a _nuisance_. He regretted ever sending Squall on the mission to Timber – it never dawned on him that his stoic soldier would fall for the fickle, foolish General’s daughter. She was completely in the way of Cid’s most prized possession: Squall. 

The door opened, but it wasn’t Edea who walked into the old stone building. Cid heard the most terrifying two words he would ever hear in his life.

_“Hello, Headmaster.”_

* * *

“Where’s Edea?” Cid asked carefully, his hand reaching for the phone he kept in his pocket. The still-steaming kettle, hastily dropped after Squall had startled him, poured its contents onto the stone floor, the boiling water seeping into the dusty grout between the tiles.

“That’s a bad idea, Headmaster.” Squall stated coolly, lifting his gunblade and pointing it at Cid’s neck. He motioned with his free hand. “Sit down. I think it’s time we had a little chat.”

Cid gulped and conceded, sitting in the wooden chair he normally ate breakfast in with his wife. He folded his trembling hands in his lap submissively. He was a coward, after all, and didn’t dare take on the imposing Commander before him. The SeeD was capable of just about anything – and that made Cid very, very afraid. The look on the young man’s face was stern. But there was something else. Fury, carefully hidden behind his stoic façade. 

Unbridled and unhinged fury. 

Cid had to look closely, as he was used to trying to read Squall’s sometimes-mysterious social cues, but it was there. Smoldering just beneath the surface. He briefly considered calling for help, but somewhere deep inside, he knew it would go unanswered.

Squall strode forward, planting one of his boots directly on Cid’s chest. The old man’s body strained against the back of the squeaking chair as the Commander pinned him. Squall grabbed the phone from Cid’s pocket, and released his hold. He dropped it to the floor and crushed it under his boot with a satisfying crunch.

“Where’s Edea?” Cid asked again, shifting nervously.

Squall nonchalantly pointed to the window with the tip of his gunblade. Never taking his eyes off Cid. Edea was wandering in the flower fields, dazed. She was frolicking in circles, then would stop and stare at the sky. Her mouth gaped open as if she were trying to communicate, but there was nothing but silence. Eyes vacant. Face slack.

Confused and muted. Permanently. Thanks to Squall’s Sorceress magic. No esuna would be powerful enough to break what he had done to her – unless cast by Squall himself – or possibly Rinoa.

Squall sneered at Cid. “Let’s get one thing straight,” he said, before burying his fist into Cid’s stomach. “I’m asking the questions here.” 

Cid leaned forward and vomited on the floor from the force of the punch. Apparently, he had tomato soup for lunch – though it was now both on the floor and dribbling down his chin. The acrid smell of bile filled the small kitchen. His head swam, a wave of heat flushing his face as he tried to blow out a calming breath. His stomach still lurched, and Cid was barely aware of Squall tying his arms and legs to the chair.

“Hyne you’re pathetic.” Squall said as he expertly tied the knots. Pulling them taught so they cut into the flesh of the still-heaving man’s wrists. Blood began to stain the fibers of the rope. “You can’t even handle one punch? This will be too easy.” 

All SeeDs had torture training, and yet the Headmaster could barely handle a small amount of pressure. Cruel irony. Not only was he a coward, he was a _weak_ coward.

Squall stood before him and landed a jab across Cid’s face. The glasses fell off, cracking in two at the bridge. One of the lenses shattered, sending tiny bits of glass into the headmaster’s cheek. Cid whimpered, nose and lip bleeding. Blood-tinged saliva dripped from the corner of his mouth, an aftereffect of the punch induced vomiting. The metallic taste threatened to make him throw up once more. 

“You make little kids go through SeeD training, you send teenagers to their deaths for money…and you can’t handle a fucking punch?” Squall followed up with another strike across Cid’s face that left his ears ringing and his vision blurry.

Fully concussed.

“Steal our memories. Use orphans under the guise of salvation for the unwanted. Turn us into _killers_. And yet, you can’t even shoot a gun.”

“We saved you all from a life of hardship, one of abandonment! Gave you a home, an education. A… _family.”_ Tears – perhaps sincere, perhaps not – welled into the corner of Cid’s eyes.

Family.

Family?

Just the sound of the word made Squall bristle with rage. The only family he needed – or wanted – was Rinoa. No one else mattered. He was readying to punch Cid’s face again, but paused, knowing another hit would likely knock the man fully unconscious. It was most definitely not that time. _Yet._ Instead, the Commander went behind the whimpering sniveling Headmaster and knelt. He pulled a pair of pliers from his pocket and pressed the tip into Cid’s nailbed.

Slow. Deliberate. He continued to apply pressure into the nailbed at the cuticle until Cid was crying from pain.

“You even ran away when things got hard…” Squall continued. “Abandoned us.”

“Please, Squall…” Cid’s tone was pleading. “You’ve got to understand. All my life, all I’ve ever wanted to do was help you children. Everything I did… I did it out of love!”

“ _Love_?” Squall let out a barking laugh, his voice echoing off the stone walls of the kitchen. Birds that were perched on the roof outside scattered. “The only thing you _love_ is the money clients pay you.”

“I was protecting you!”

Squall yanked on Cid’s hand, forcing the bindings further into his already raw and bleeding wrist. The point of the pliers shook as the young Commander trembled with anger. When he finally spoke, after what seemed like an eternity, his voice was eerily calm and laced with venom.

“You. Fucking. Coward.”

With those words, Squall removed the pressure from the nailbed. A short moment of reprieve before he wrenched the old man’s hands awkwardly, forcing his fingers into a more preferable position. He clamped the tip of the pliers onto one of Cid’s fingernails, just long enough to hold tightly.

Cid writhed in pain, crying, “Squall….please….you’re like a son….”

Son.

Son?

He was no man’s son.

Squall scoffed and pulled harder, the nail beginning to separate from the delicate sensitive skin underneath. His voice was smooth and commanding. Filled with a haunting calmness. Calculation. Disguised encouragement. “Tell me what the GFs do.”

“What they do?” Cid was genuinely confused by the question. “You… you know what they do! Your SeeD education ensures that!”

Squall kicked one of the chair leg’s, jarring the headmaster’s body. His head snapped forward with the momentum and he let out a pitiful, pained grunt. “What do they _tell_ you?”

“Wh…What?” Cid shook his head in disbelief. “I don’t understand!”

Squall slapped Cid in the back of the head. “You’re running out of time, Headmaster.”

“I…I…you’ve got it all wrong!”

The Commander pulled harder on the pliers, blood beginning to seep from the exposed skin of the nailbed.

“You know what they do! They… augment soldiers! Help! They help in battle!” Cid screamed out, tears of agony running down his flushed face. “They don’t tell me anything! How can they? Please, Squall, sto—"

“Wrong answer.” Squall ripped the nail fully off, to Cid’s horror. Blood dripped onto the floor below him. “You’re a rotten liar, Cid Kramer.”

“I swear it’s the truth!” Cid trembled, even as he plead to be released.

“One more chance, Headmaster. Before I get vindictive…” Squall tore off another nail without warning and held the bloodied pliers in front of Cid’s face for him to squirm.

“Alright!” Cid cried like a pathetic infant. “I…they don’t report! The memories, they eat them! They devour your brains, turn you into machines of war. They are gone. Forever. I swear.” 

Squall chuckled darkly. Of course the GFs were parasitic. And of course, Cid was perfectly fine allowing eleven and twelve-year-olds to invite that parasite into their brain. Some _father_ figure. He guessed Cid had never bothered junctioning one himself, just put it upon his “children”. Test subjects that trusted him. They’d never question him. He was only looking out for their best interest, ensuring they’d be protected in the battles of their lives.

Or so they’d always been told.

By a man they _trusted._

“N-now that I’ve told you,” Cid pleaded weakly. “…will you untie me? We can talk about this rationally, like men.”

“Men?” Squall whispered ominously. “You’re not a man, Headmaster. You’re a monster.” He rounded the chair and dropped the bloodied pliers at Cid’s feet. Squall crackled his knuckles, thundaga arcing on his fingertips. He was desperately trying to control his anger. He still needed more information.

Cid’s eyes widened as he saw the spell threatening to explode from Squall’s hands. “You’re junctioned?”

Squall squatted so he was eye-level with the Headmaster, an evil grin on his face. “No.”

He deliberately placed a finger on Cid’s chest, concentrating the spell to course into the man’s heart. The lightning raced across the nerves of the heart, short circuiting it, mimicking an infarction. Not enough to kill him, but enough to damage the organ and cause Cid excruciating pain.

Cid gasped for air as his heart beat erratically, not receiving proper electrical signals. It felt as if a behemoth was sitting on his chest and squeezing the air out of him. 

Squall abruptly pulled his hand back before he accidently killed the man. He wanted him to suffer a little more, after all. And he needed more information. He had done enough damage to the heart that Cid would be in constant chest pain with breathing and any minor movement. The pathetic organ was barely giving enough oxygenated blood to itself, let alone the rest of the body.

“What are your plans for Rinoa?” Squall’s voice was powerful. Demanding.

“P-plans?” Cid shuddered, his voice warbling. Speaking was now becoming painful. His eyes threatened to flutter shut. “I…don’t understand.”

Squall struck him across the face abruptly, and one of his teeth when rocketing out of his mouth. It clattered to the floor just before the stove, a small spray of blood speckling the white ceramic coating of the oven door. “I’m really getting tired of these games, Headmaster...”

“She…she agreed.” Cid wheezed out.

“…to _what_?”

“She…agreed. It was… the only way…to let her stay at Garden.” It hurt to talk, Cid just wanted to fall asleep. “Safety…for all…”

“What are you talking about?” Fast as lightning, Squall grabbed the pliers at Cid’s feet and jabbed them through the top of the man’s thigh, breaking the skin and burying deep into the tissue. “Wake up, old man. I’m not done!” He slowly opened the pliers, pulling apart the wound from the inside, tearing through muscle and sinew.

The pain was enough to jolt Cid back to reality, howling in pain while gasping for air. “Odine! _Odine!_ ”

Squall was caught off guard and stopped the pressure on the pliers. “Odine?”

Cid let out a small chuckle. “You…you…didn’t know…?”

Squall lunged for the Headmaster, enraged, wrapping his hand around the man’s throat. Still tied to the chair, Cid could do nothing but writhe in his restraints. Tendrils of electricity flickered across Squall’s skin as he squeezed. “ _What are you talking about?”_ He hissed.

“She…agreed!” Cid gasped, eyes bulging. Small blood vessels in his eyes began to burst from the pressure of his struggling, staining the white sclera to a terrifying red. “I told her… she had to see Odine if…if she wanted to stay…at Garden! To…help her…control…”

The Commander suddenly let go, leaving Cid to splutter and choke as oxygen returned to his lungs. He stared at his hands, thin trails of smoke wisping up from his fingertips, one lone spark of thundaga fizzling out as his energy waned.

Cid had forced Rinoa see Odine.

Threatened.

Behind his back.

She never told him.

She _never_ told him.

For over a year.

Squall felt like he had been punched in the gut.

Why wouldn’t she tell him?

…because he would react exactly like this.

How would he have reacted at her?

Squall’s rage was overpowering every rational thought he had left.

Hyne only knew what Odine had her doing -- or had been doing to her.

It was time.

The Commander turned back to face the Headmaster. Cid’s face was ruddy with fear, with confusion. The old man stared at him, eyes pleading. “We can fix this, Squall. Together. Find a way for everyone to move on…”

Squall wordlessly pulled a small blade from a sheath around his leg and swiftly stabbed Cid in the stomach, slowly carving the blade to his left.

Cid gasped in shock, gurgles of blood rising in his throat. Soon, the scarlet liquid dribbled from the corners of his mouth. He said nothing.

He didn’t have to.

“You never had any _guts_ , Headmaster,” Squall said calmly as he pulled the blade out, Cid’s innards spilling out of the wound. The room suddenly took on the stench of blood and viscera, metallic and sour.

Cid Kramer would die slowly and painfully as the acid from his stomach slowly ate away at his organs. A coward’s death.

“Enjoy eternity with your _wife._ ”

Plunging his hand into the wound he created, Squall ripped the gall bladder from its connection to the liver, pulling it from Cid’s slowly fading body. “I’ll take this.”

He turned around and stalked out.

Blood pooled beneath Cid’s body as it took him excruciating hours to die, bile dripping from his stomach, staining the stone floor of the orphanage. Edea blissfully twirled and danced around his body, eternally insane. 

If anyone ever happened to come visit the orphanage, which was unlikely, they would immediately blame a crazed Edea for Cid’s murder. Maybe the Sorceress power had reemerged from within her? Confused and mute, she’d never be able to defend herself. She’d be put on trial. Executed. An image that had been restored after the second Sorceress’ War – sullied again, never to regain its former glory.

* * *

Squall returned to the Sorceress Memorial so he could offer his latest sacrifice to Hyne and Rinoa. He knelt before his makeshift altar, ready with his latest offering. Digging a small hole beside the larger mound that contained the head of Laguna Loire, he buried Cid’s stolen gall bladder. 

He prayed Hyne’s forgiveness for his sins and knew absolution would be found through Rinoa: the heir.

 _Dies iræ, dies illa_ _  
Solvet sæclum in favilla_

He chanted softly, feeling Hyne’s mercy wash over him. He felt at peace, knowing Rinoa was now just a little safer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First and foremost. Thank you to my amazing beta, **bebedora**. This chapter literally was nothing before she got her hands on it. If you've ever read her stuff (which you should) you should know she knows how to torture people.
> 
> The painting _Death and the Miser_ is a painting by Hieronymus Bosch and hangs in the National Gallery of Art in Washington, DC. You'd be surprised to know it was painted in the 15th century -- yet like most of Bosch's paintings, it looks like he could have been a contemporary of Dali -- the guy had a really really vivid imagination.


	7. Penance

**Mortal Sin**

**Chapter 6: Penance**

The act of penance is more than a simple confession. Penance requires the sinner to perform acts of contrition to atone for their sins. A self-inflicted punishment for having done wrong. Or, sometimes no wrong has been done, but penance is done to create a favorable outcome from above. There is a woodblock print that depicts a mother doing penance in a desire to heal her son's legs, _Hatsuhana doing penance under the Tonosawa waterfall._ Ultimately, she cannot handle it, and dies. Her son miraculously heals anyway, and sets off to avenge his mother. Or at least, that's what they teach at the Art History course at Garden.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Squall awoke the next morning at peace. Rinoa was back from Deling City, Cid was no longer a threat, and their reunion had been _exquisite._

_Squall entered his room, found his Sorceress waiting for him in the tiniest, laciest thing he had ever seen in his life. He grabbed her and smashed his lips to hers roughly, growling as he gathered her into his arms. He noticed the small smirk cross her lips as she caught the predatory gleam in his eye. She wanted him desperately._

Squall perched up on his elbow to observe the beautiful woman in his arms. He gently and reverently ran his fingers along her creamy bare legs, smirking slightly.

_Squall pinned her to the bed, his hands gripping her hips tightly as if for dear life. He was anything but gentle, repeatedly slamming into her._

Even though they had been intimate for over a year, he still swelled with pride being able to have this effect on her. Though she _had_ seemed tired more and more recently anyway.

" _Squall…" Rinoa groaned into the pillow._

_Squall nearly came undone, hearing his name said like that._

" _Gods, you feel so good," she moaned._

_Squall smirked confidently._

" _Harder!" She commanded._

_Who was he to deny his Sorceress?_

His fingers continued to gently trace her alabaster skin. When he got to her hips, he paused. Bruises. Three small ones, almost in a pattern. He was sure they weren't there last night. Squall felt rage seeping underneath him at the thought of someone hurting her. Energy crackled off his skin, causing Rinoa to stir slightly.

_Squall wanted to hear her moans. He was sick of them being buried into the pillow. He desired his name again from her lips as she came for him. Only_ _**for** _ _him. Only_ _**from** _ _him._

Squall desperately tried to calm himself, placing his hand on top of the bruise willing it out of his sight.

As he placed his fingers on them, it hit him. A perfect match. They were _his_ fingers. He had done it.

 _Rinoa was panting heavily, her eyelids droopy._ _Her legs were like jelly and her whole body was shivering. She was no longer standing on the ground, his body pressing her against the side of the bed and keeping her balanced._

_She was intoxicated with pleasure, nearly hallucinating._

Squall cursed silently. He recalled the previous night, trying to understand how it happened. She had wanted him, she was urging him on…

_Squall leaned forward and tugged Rinoa's dark tresses back, signaling that he wanted her to lift up off the bed. When her upper body was pulled up off the surface of the bed, she tiled her head back onto his shoulder, ensuring her ear was right next to his mouth. He mercifully slowed his assault and helped her to arch her back against him, pressing into his strong chest._

She had wanted it. He had felt her pleasure more than once.

" _Everything I do is for you," he whispered huskily into her ear. "Everything…"_

" _Don't ever leave me again." There was a hint of anger in his voice._

Squall frowned, frustrated at his lack of control. He had apparently gripped her so strongly he left bruising.

" _Scream for me," Squall commanded softly as the grip on her wrists tightened and he moved within her once again. This time there would be no pillow to muffle her pleasure._

" _Scream for me!"_

He carefully inspected Rinoa as she slept, looking for anything else. His fingers traced up her sides, then down her shoulders and arms, pausing as he touched her wrists. Bruising, again.

_It was an exquisite pleasure. Rapture. Near painful euphoria. Surely, she was dying in ecstasy._

She had enjoyed it. He was sure. She told him. She affirmed it.

" _That was…_ _ **incredible**_ _." She murmured, sighing in pleasure. "_ _ **You're**_ _incredible. I love you…"_

_Squall tightened his grip on her, hugging her from behind. "I love you." He avowed gently in her ear, carefully pushing the hair from her face. "Gods, I love you so much."_

" _I love you so much it hurts," Rinoa added quietly._

_Squall did not hear her, he had pulled back and was lighting his usual post-coital cigarette with a fire spell snapped from his fingers._

_He sighed contently, a self-satisfied smirk on his face as he leaned his head back into the pillows, Rinoa already sound asleep next to him. He inhaled the smoke deeply and watched it waft to the ceiling as he exhaled._

_Squall closed his eyes, taking another drag. He had found his absolution through Rinoa._

_He knew Hyne had forgiven him for his sin._

* * *

Rinoa woke to Squall lifting her leg and entering her from behind. Giving her a sense of completeness and fullness only he could impart. He was whispering into her hair, gently making love to her. Almost as if she were made of glass. It was welcomed after the previous night. She loved the possessive empowering man Squall had become, but this Squall reminded her of the shy, awkward young SeeD she had dragged onto the dance floor.

" _Forgive me…"_

"Hm?" She moaned softly from his ministrations.

"Forgive me." He gently grasped her hand and lifted it to her face, as if wanting her to look at something.

She noticed the bruising on her wrists.

"Forgive me," he asked again as he continued to softly move within her. "Please…"

Rinoa nodded, "It's nothing. An accident. Don't worry." She turned her head back and kissed the corner of his mouth.

He was smiling. Relieved.

"Last night was… _indescribable_. I've never…" She couldn't finish the thought, distracted by what he was doing to her body.

He stiffened behind her and let out a content sigh. His hands travelled across her body as he remained buried deep inside her.

Rinoa gave his hand a gentle squeeze and kissed the back of it, breaking their comfortable silence. "When I was living with Caraway, he used to not let me go into my mom's study...where her piano was."

Squall didn't know what type of pillow talk this was, bringing up her father of all people, but he grunted to acknowledge he was listening.

"So, when he was gone for work or whatever I would sneak in. It had all her awards. She won a lot, you know?"

"I didn't know."

"Oh. Well, yeah. There were also magazines that had interviews with her. In one of them she talked about the meaning of a song."

Squall's hand was beginning to get a little too frisky and Rinoa swatted it away from her hip playfully. Squall grumbled at the denial. "I already know ' _Eyes on Me_ ' is about Laguna. _Unfortunately._ "

"No. _'True Love Waits'_ "

Squall vaguely recalled hearing the song before, remembering it won for best song in Galbadia. It was still played quite regularly on the radio.

Rinoa continued. "She said it was about the desire to never grow up in order to keep someone you love. To stay in that moment forever, no matter what the cost." The Sorceress sighed softly. "When I was a kid, I never understood what she meant. Who wouldn't want to grow up?"

Squall listened to the woman in his arms, giving her a soft nudge to continue.

"I understand what she meant, now." Rinoa confessed quietly.

"Julia wanted to stop time."

Rinoa chuckled softly. "I guess so." She tugged Squall's arms tighter around her and tilted her head to catch the corner of his mouth in a kiss. " _Just don't leave. Don't leave._ "

They stayed like that until the afternoon, speaking of their past, the present, and their hopes for the future.

* * *

The two warriors faced off in their usual spot: the cliffs behind Garden. Squall was pacing, taunting him with his gunblade, waiting for Seifer to strike first.

Seifer was aware of his opponent's strategy and was waiting for the right moment. Waiting enough to irritate the Commander into provoking him to strike first. By this point, the two men knew each other's moves as if they were their own.

Seifer finally struck, but opted to not use his blade in order to surprise Squall. Instead, he shot a rubber bullet from the gun portion of the blade. It struck the Commander painfully in the arm, successfully stunning him. Seifer had managed to strike him in his dominant arm as well, his wielding arm.

The pellet was enough to make Squall almost lose control of his gunblade and he quickly retaliated with his other hand, hurling a firaga at Seifer's face to stall an impending attack.

Seifer's hair was singed at the ends and there was a nasty burn on his face.

"You, _buttplug!_ What the _hell!_ " Seifer screamed, flailing around dramatically as he patted out the fire on his scalp, "I just got my hair done, asshole!"

Squall smirked and let out a soft chuckle, assuming a defensive position with his gunblade across his chest.

Seifer growled and charged at Squall with his gunblade over his head. As Seifer anticipated, Squall lifted up his gunblade to intercept the blow coming down, so at the last minute Seifer twisted his body and lowered his blade instead striking up, getting a good gash in Squall's dominant arm, close to where he had been shot.

The shock of the blood-drawing hit gave Seifer enough time to get behind the Commander and hurl a tornado spell at his back. Knocking Squall off his feet would give Seifer the advantage he craved against his arrogant opponent and certainly wipe that annoyingly smug smile off his face.

Squall did not fall. Barely fazed by the spell, he spun around on one heel, parrying his blade down into Seifer's shoulder.

Blood for blood.

Still reeling in awe from his opponent withstanding a powerful spell, Seifer hesitated. Seifer was never the best magic-user, but certainly his spell should have at leasted knocked Squall off balance. Seifer's hesitation was all Squall needed to get the upper hand.

The sudden punch split Seifer's lip, and he licked up the sticky maroon blood trickling into his mouth.

Instead of backing away, Seifer charged the Commander, knowing that he had a size advantage. Gunblades were not useful weapons when you were this close, and Squall would be forced to only use his hands.

Seifer grabbed Squall's shoulders and drove his knee into the man's solar plexus, knocking the wind out of him.

Squall coughed and sputtered as he regained his ability to breathe, holding up his hand for Seifer to wait. Both men were sore and tired. Enough was enough. Enough blood had been spilled onto the stones below for one day.

Squall fell back onto his rear end, barely able to stand after his battle with Seifer. He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his gunblade case and lit one with a small fire spell, staring at the sky. He let out a tired sigh, the cigarette helping him relax.

He peered, one eye open, and glanced to his side as Seifer sat heavily next to him, a cigar in his mouth. Squall snorted. Seifer always had to make everything a big show.

Seifer lit the cigar with a custom lighter that had his initials – a gift from an unknown woman – Seifer never would tell - and inhaled. He blew out smoke rings and the two sat in silence for a few minutes.

Seifer was the one to break it. "So, natural magic, huh?"

Squall didn't respond.

Seifer leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees nonchalantly. "I could use it when I was near Edea, you know."

"Whatever," came Squall's standard response.

"But, I had to be, like, almost touching her." Seifer looked around him in exaggerated movements. "You hiding Rinoa somewhere? Is she in your gunblade case?"

Squall simply rolled his eyes.

Seifer smacked Squall on the arm, "Hey." He said, his tone serious. Which was a rarity in and of itself.

Squall glared over at his companion, swatting Seifer's hand away from him. "… _what_?"

"You're drawing from her somehow, Puberty Boy."

Squall shrugged. So what? It was probably a way of letting Knights protect their Sorceresses.

"Hyne, you're dense," Seifer continued. "How on earth you run the stupid Garden is beyond me, Commander Bitebug Balls."

Squall stood up and crushed his cigarette butt under his boot, grabbing his gunblade case and hefting it over his shoulder, ignoring the blonde beside him.

Seifer remained seated, smoking his cigar.

"Next week?" Squall asked simply.

"As you would say - _whatever_."

Squall snorted and walked away.

"Squall."

The use of his name stopped the Commander from walking. He waited for Seifer's comment without turning around.

"You're _drawing_ from her. Sucking it out of her. Taking something that's a part of her, you know?" Seifer stood and flung his cigar out into the grass behind the cliffs, not bothering to snuff it out first. "Do you know what it's doing _to_ her _?_ "

Squall stiffened but didn't respond, continuing his walk back to Garden.

"Squall."

The Commander was stopped from his journey home. Again. Squall pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance. "… _what?"_

Seifer had been dreading telling him. Squall would probably fly off the handle, accuse him of either lying or keeping secrets he had no business knowing in the first place. In the end, Sefier decided, since it was in the best interest of Rinoa's safety, he should tell Commander MaxiPad. "She's been seeing Odine."

"I know."

That was certainly not the answer Seifer had been expecting. "You _know?_ "

Squall shrugged. "Cid told me."

"Squall."

Now the third time the ex-knight had said his name. Squall was getting extremely irritated. "Dear Hyne have mercy. _What?_ "

Seifer knew his counterpart was irked by him, but continued. He still enjoyed frustrating the other gunblader. Besides, Squall was too far away to do anything to him at this point, and he was sure the next bit of information he was going to give was going to completely enrage the other man.

Seifer briefly chewed on his bottom lip, pausing dramatically before speaking. "Odine's got her taking pills."

Based on Squall's body language, and the palpable anger radiating off of him, Seifer figured that Squall was unaware of that juicy tidbit. Squall didn't turn around.

He simply walked away.

Seifer watched the shorter man walk back to Garden. The ex-knight had always been the bulkier of the two, the stronger one, but Squall had changed in the past year. He had put on mass, pure muscle. Seifer's brow furrowed in concern.

"What were you doing while Rinoa and I were in Deling?" He asked softly to the air, Squall's figure too far away to hear.

* * *

Squall returned to his apartment to find his love sleeping apparently peacefully in his bed. It was only five-thirty. Stalking in quietly, Squall did not turn on a light or open the blinds. He crept around the bed, careful not to disturb her. Opening the bedside table, he found the usual contents. Hair ties, some hand lotion, a bottle of ibuprofen she took for cramps. A rather kinky "toy" that Selphie had given her as a gag-gift – that ended up being actually used on several occasions. A journal, pen, and a handful of cough drops. No pills. Squall frowned and walked into their small kitchen, thinking. Where would Rinoa hide something? She was not the sneaky type. Hiding something stealthily was more up Squall's alley.

She would hide in plain sight.

Because she didn't expect him to look.

Careful not to trip over and wake Angelo, Squall reached for Rinoa's purse.

Bingo.

Three prescriptions. _Three_? What in Hyne's name was that odious man making Rinoa take? Squall looked at the labels and could tell they were all sedatives based on the warning labels. Perhaps he was trying to sedate her power? Also, apparently, she shouldn't be drinking while taking them. He _knew_ Rinoa didn't follow that suggestion.

Squall had wanted Seifer to be lying. He had wanted Cid to be lying. But deep down, he knew they weren't. Now he had proof. Staring him in the face in the form of three beige bottles. Rinoa's name in bold letters, Odine's right below as the prescribing physician.

She had lied to him.

She had hidden this from him.

Rinoa. _His_ Rinoa.

Why?

Embarrassment?

Fear?

Surely, Rinoa would never fear him. Yet, even as he thought it, Squall felt rage prickling at the edge of his subconscious. Not necessarily directed at her, but directed at everything and everyone.

He placed the bottles on top of the bedside table and leaned over to shake Rinoa more gently than he knew he was capable of that moment.

"Rin." He said tonelessly. His voice not betraying the fury he was keeping clamped down. "Wake up."

"Hmmm?" The Sorceress rolled over onto her back and slowly opened her eyes, rubbing them. "Mmmm… hi Squall." She smiled warmly upon seeing his face. Her smile quickly waned as she saw his distant look, set jaw, folded arms. It was a look she hadn't seen directed her way in a very long time.

Rinoa slowly sat up in the bed. "Squall?" She asked hesitantly, reaching out her hand to him.

Squall didn't move to take her hand, instead letting her drop it to the bed in front of her. He kept his arms folded across his chest and motioned with a jerk of his head towards the bedside table.

" _What have you done?"_

His tone of voice made Rinoa's blood turn cold. It was a voice she had never heard from him. Well, at least not directed at her. It was a voice he reserved for cadets who had failed a mission. It was so calm and quiet, so controlled. It was petrifying. For the first time in her life, Rinoa truly realized how terrifying her Knight could be. Everyone else on the planet knew what this man was capable of – he was well feared – but never by her.

She glanced over and noticed the prescriptions.

_No._

"Squall…" Rinoa had no defense. She knew it. Squall knew it. There was nothing she could say or do in that moment to pacify the fuming man in front of her. Rinoa briefly considered throwing herself at him and seducing him as a distraction, but she knew it wouldn't be right. First, Squall was too angry for that and second, even if he did let her completely please him, he would resent her.

Wordlessly, Squall snatched the prescriptions up in his hand and marched to the bathroom.

_No._

" _No!"_ RInoa leapt off the bed and chased after him. "Squall, no!" She latched herself onto his strong arm as he ripped off the lids to the bottles and began to pour them into the toilet.

"Give me one reason why not, Rinoa. Hell, give me one reason _why_." He paused, his hand poised above the toilet with the bottles perpendicular.

Rinoa began to cry. They were not tears of manipulation, as she was accustomed to forcing to her eyes when she wanted to get her way. No, they were tears of sheer guilt. Despair. Acceptance. She released his arm and collapsed at his feet, sobbing. A non-verbal plea for him to stop.

As she heard the pills hit the water and the toilet flush, Rinoa let out an agonized desperate moan. Defeated.

Squall's anger quickly faded as he looked down at the woman heaving with sobs at his feet. A woman who could probably end the whole continent with the snap of her fingers if she so wished it – and yet – she was so _weak_ in that moment. Which was probably exactly what Cid and Odine had wanted.

"Please, Squall…." Rinoa clung to his pants like a child begging a parent not to leave them at a day care. "Please… it hurts so much…I _need_ them. It hurts…"

Squall sank to his knees and gathered the Sorceress in his arms. Her tears quickly soaked the collar of his shirt as she clung to him.

"I can't…" Rinoa continued, "I can't sleep without it. I _need_ them. Please…"

Squall gently ran his fingers through her hair, as if comforting a child. "No." He said quietly. "I'll help you. I'll cast sleep on you every night… you can't…"

Rinoa sobbed in his arms, frustration mixed with the truth of her situation.

The Commander sighed in frustration. "Promise me."

"I'm… so sorry."

"It's from _Odine_ – just… anything else. You can't trust it, Rin. They're trying to control you."

"I'm sorry…I-I didn't tell you." Rinoa whimpered, grabbing fistfuls of Squall's shirt.

"I'll do whatever you need. Just, please…" Squall gathered her face in his hands and turned her to look him in the eyes. Black streaks of mascara snaked down her cheeks, her eyes red and puffy from crying, purple bags were underneath a stark contrast on her porcelain skin. He never realized how tired and hollow she looked until that moment. "No more. Promise?"

Rinoa cast her gaze to the floor and she shook her head. "Cid will kick me out- he… I'll have to leave you…"

"No… no, Cid is…gone. He's gone, Rinoa. He won't be coming back to Garden. He's in…Centra. You don't have to follow his rule anymore. I promise you."

Rinoa mumbled something incoherent into his chest. Realizing she wasn't heard, she pulled back slightly, "I…promise." She gasped out before clinging to her Knight once again.

Squall gripped the woman in his arms tightly, squeezing her. "I love you." He whispered quietly into her hair. Squall gently pulled her to her feet and wiped the tears from her cheeks. "Get cleaned up. I need to work, I would stay, but… I have to deal with some things."

Rinoa nodded and kissed him softly on the mouth. "Okay." She turned from him and twisted the tap for the faucet, filling the bathroom sink with warm water to wash her puffy eyes and makeup streaked face.

The young Sorceress waited until she heard the latch click from the front door before shutting the water off. She glanced out the bathroom door and tiptoed to the large king-sized bed she shared with her Knight. Opening her bedside drawer, she reached in and pulled out a non-descript bottle of ibuprofen. Twisting the lid, she glanced inside and found a rainbow of various pills. Guiltily, she grabbed two without looking what she had snatched and swallowed them before shoving the bottle back in the drawer.

Hiding in plain sight.

She cleansed her palate with an airplane bottle of gin from their small kitchen.

_I'm not living, I'm just killing time._

"Forgive me, Squall." Rinoa whispered into the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, thank you to my amazing beta, the talented **Bebedora.**
> 
>  _Hatsuhana doing penance under the Tonosawa waterfall_ is a woodblock print by Kuniyoshi Utagawa. It is part of a series of prints called _Stories of Wise and Virtuous Women_. All Japanese folktales of women saving the day (usually by dying or sacrificing their virtue, of course).
> 
>  _True Love Waits_ is a song by the one and only Radiohead. Once again, it has a haunting piano melody that I could picture for Julia. Christopher O'Riley does a solo piano version that I was thinking of for this story.


	8. Gula (Or Gluttony Part 1)

**Mortal Sin**

**Chapter 7: Gula ( Or Gluttony Part 1)**

Gula is a sin similar to greed, specifically involving food and drink. There are different types of gula: eating the wrong things, eating at the wrong times, eating in excess, or not sharing with those who are needy. There are a series of Still Life paintings that subtly depict gluttony. An ornate table after a feast oyster shells, a precious lemon peel, goblets of half-drunk wine, a candle burned almost completely down. They seem innocuous enough but carry a heavy message: you, too, are dying, and when you do, you will pay for your sin. No one is immortal. Or at least, that's what they teach at the Art History course at Garden.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rinoa's guilt was plaguing her.

She had wanted to sleep, but even with pharmaceutical help, she was unable to after Squall's confrontation. Her mind was racing and her body felt numb.

Absentmindedly flipping a lighter over in her hand, she stared out at the ocean beyond the balcony, trying to get peace from the calming sound of crashing waves. A nearly empty fifth of whiskey sat on the small table next to her. She was never a smoker, not like most of Garden, though socially she would have the occasional cigarette. And often she would take a puff of Squall's after sex. That one she understood. But she needed _something._ Anything, really.

Rinoa felt dead inside. Correction. She _was_ dead inside.

Bringing one of Squall's cigarettes to her lips, she lit it with the lighter, not even bothering to use a fire spell. She had been barely able to cast anything recently. It had to be the side-effects of the drugs, or so she assumed.

After lighting the cigarette, she kept the lighter aflame, gazing at the flickering light. It was soothing to stare at. Before she knew it, the lighter was beginning to get very hot, burning her thumb.

Still she kept it lit.

She wanted to feel _anything_. Even if it was pain.

Eventually the searing sensation on her fingers became too much and she dropped the lighter abruptly, shame washing over her.

What was wrong with her?

Rinoa's raw inner pain was near palpable, but Squall was blissfully unaware.

The agony was so strong that any outward pain was better than the turmoil in her head. Anything. Maybe that's why she enjoyed things rough. It's why she had become such a masochist. She felt the most alive after being in pain or painful pleasure. Unfortunately, she knew Squall would be hesitant to touch her for a while after being caught with the prescriptions. And Squall didn't even know about the non-prescribed cacophony of drugs she kept next to the bed.

It turned out that it was very easy to obtain pretty much any drug in the book at Garden. Maybe a lifetime of GF use, war, and seeing your friends die led to massive substance abuse? Who would have thought? Half of Garden felt just as dead as she did.

But, the pills could only do so much.

* * *

Squall had immersed himself into everything he could find in Balamb Garden Library pertaining to Knights and Sorceresses. The girl Zell had a crush on had been kind enough to show him how to use the filing system to find what he wanted. He even forgave her for accidentally calling him "Commander Poophead". He did not want her to know what he was looking for, so instead he asked her to explain how it worked.

Holed up in a corner of the library that was used more as a secret make-out spot for cadets than actual studying, he relished in the quiet privacy so he could work without distractions. So far, Squall had found out there were many different ways to raise energy, or "chi". He had never believed in garbage like that before, never being the meditating type. But, he knew that a lot of the grapplers in the Garden swore by it. He also had heard Dr. Kadowaki going on about it one time saying something about "Complimentary Medicine".

He despised taking Seifer's advice and actually researching this, but the bastard had been right. He was now almost certain he was somehow drawing more than just magic from Rinoa. He was drawing her actual life-force from her, and it was this life-force that gave him the ability to do natural magic. He just wasn't sure _how_ he was doing it and, more importantly, he wanted to know how to do it safely.

There was apparently a very ancient forbidden technique that allowed chi enhancement through intimacy. Prostitutes were trained in this art and soldiers at war would come to them. The prostitutes were able to increase their patron's chi through lovemaking. As far as he could tell, it didn't seem to have any ill-effect on the woman, and it was a rare gift that had to be highly trained under a mentor.

Squall next decided to examine historical records of Knights and Sorceresses to see if there was any evidence of natural magic from Knights of the past. He opened a rather large book entitled _Sorceress. Knight. A History of Time. 5_ _th_ _Edition_

_Further archaeological and anthropological evidence suggests there are four distinct types of Sorceress and Knight pairings through history. The nature and type of the relationship between Sorceress and Knight is directly correlated with positive and negative outcomes._

  * _**Storge**_ _: Most often in this case, the Knight to this Sorceress is a close family member. Under the protection of a close relative, these Sorceresses are often docile and live an uncomplicated life. The Knight chosen in this case does not have desire for power, nor does the Sorceress. Given the bond is familial, it is considered stable, so there is a low probability of having the bond sever catastrophically and for the Sorceress to go mad._
  * _**Philios**_ _: In this bond, the outcomes can be either positive or negative. In a negative Philios bond, often one of the two are the more dominant personality and drive the nature of the relationship. Historically, there is no evidence that Sorceresses are always the dominant temperament in the bond, rather it looks to be split almost evenly. There are many accounts of Knights driving the bond and being the aggressor. Depending on the nature of the dominant personality, it will drive the outcome of the bond—positive or negative. These relationships are strictly platonic._
  * _**Eros**_ _: The second most rare bond. Only seven accounts in history. Like Philios, the Eros bond can have either a positive or a negative outcome. Often the will of one drives the nature of the relationship. Paranoia, fear, and anger can often make this bond susceptible to chaos and destruction. Given the closeness of the bond, the Sorceress and Knight become almost one unit, but with opposing effects. If one is weak, the other is strong. Maintaining an even balance is critical for maintaining a stable peaceful bond. The unique feature of the Eros bond is that the two are bonded so tightly, when one half dies, so does the other. The death is often immediate but can occur up to one month later. They are intrinsically and irreversibly linked._
  * _**Agape**_ _: This is the rarest bond between Sorceress and Knight. In this case, the Sorceress and Knight sacrifice themselves in order to prevent the possibility of chaos or destruction. The pair find a way to suspend themselves indefinitely, encasing their power within their bodies to not be passed down. This has only been seen once in history. It is theorized that a Sorceress can also do this without taking a Knight and encase herself for the greater good._



Squall pondered this. Obviously, that meant that Cid and Edea did not have an _Eros_ bond. Then again, it was entirely possible that Cid was never her Knight. Had Seifer been her Knight all along? He blew out a long breath and continued reading.

_In the Agape, the Sorceress and Knight volunteer to be subdued. In the only known case, almost 3000 years ago, the containment of the power was completely successful. The multiple methods of theoretical voluntary containment are further addressed in Chapter 6._

_There are also many historical references of different ways that Sorceresses have been involuntarily sacrificed without passing their power on to another. In these situations, Sorceresses are subdued against their will. While these cases are successful for a time, they almost always fail long term. The most recent example is that of Sorceress Adel…_

"Yo, Squall!" A surprised voice called to him, not expecting to see the Commander in the library. Let alone at this time of night. The library had closed an hour ago.

The library was a place Squall rarely frequented. Almost all of his reading consisted of mission reports and his stack of _Weapons Monthly_ in his bedroom. Rinoa was the one who spent her free time in the library and was a common sight. She even volunteered to put the books back on their correct shelves from time to time.

Squall grunted at the tattooed blonde invading his space.

"Yo, man, I'm used to Rin in here, but I don't think I've ever seen _you_ at the library," Zell punched into the air enthusiastically.

"Whatever."

"It's late, dude."

Squall sighed in exasperation and rolled his eyes, realizing that if he didn't entertain a certain level of conversation the martial artist, he wasn't going to leave him alone. "What are _you_ doing here so late?"

"Me?"

"Yes."

"Oh, I'm here to visit Lisa and walk her to her dorm after her shift."

Squall raised an eyebrow. "Who?"

"Lisa, brah. The girl with the pigtails."

"Why does everyone call her that? Those aren't pigtails, you know. They're plaits." Squall had been spending too much time reading Rinoa's girly fashion magazines the bathroom. But, they were the only thing to read in there.

"Plates?"

"No, _plaits_. Braids. She has braids, not a pigtail."

"Oh." Zell rubbed the back of his neck.

An uncomfortable silence stretched between the two comrades until, much to Squall's chagrin, Zell decided to sit down.

Zell was quietly noticing the titles of the books spread before the Commander. "You trying to enhance your chi?"

Squall cleared his throat. "Pardon?"

The blonde motioned to the books in front of him. "These are all about chi enhancement. I do stuff like that all the time, dude. It's part of martial arts. I can help, you know, if you're interested? I actually work on chi attacks every Wednesday in the Training Center."

Squall remained silent. Stoic.

Zell smirked, a faint blush falling across his cheeks as he noticed one of the titles. " _Fhang Zeng_? Heh heh. I thought that was just legend. I'm definitely not the person to help you with _that_ though, I don't swing that way."

Squall's eyebrow twitched in irritation.

Zell took the hint and finally stood up. "Guess you gotta work on that one with Rinoa, huh?" He chuckled, raising his eyebrows suggestively. "I'm sure you guys have had a lot of practice already."

Zell was too smart for his own good sometimes.

* * *

Squall returned to his quarters late in the night, having spent hours in the library without realizing it. He was aching for Rinoa.

Aching for the energy he received from being with her.

Aching for the power.

He was addicted to her. Addicted to what she _gave_ him.

After his research, he was sure it was a result of their bond. A literal euphoric high from her body. Squall knew it was more than just a bond. True love-he loved her before he ever pledged to be her Knight. He had to be the strong one. She was weak. And getting even weaker. The confrontation earlier in the day made that painfully clear to him. Was he making her weak, or was her weakness making him strong? He knew how fragile she was despite the tough front she put on.

She was breaking and he couldn't stop it.

The Knight had to protect the Sorceress, no matter what.

Disrobing down to his boxers he padded quietly into his bedroom. Rinoa was asleep in one of his SeeD t-shirts. Normally the sight would cause him to wake her up and ravage her, but as Squall gazed upon the sleeping Sorceress, he felt his anger return. He was still furious at her for the pills. Not the pills.

The _lie_.

After staring at her sleeping form for what seemed like an eternity, Squall let out a frustrated growl and speared his hands through his hair in an attempt to calm down. He didn't trust himself with her when he was still this angry.

While he knew Rinoa often enjoyed things on the rougher side, he knew he didn't have enough control of himself or his anger. There was a very fine line between pleasure and pain, after all.

In the end, Squall would never forgive himself if he truly hurt her. Leaving bruises on her the other night was bad enough. He blamed that on Cid's death and the thrill he had felt after returning from Centra.

Squall stepped onto the balcony and smoked a cigarette to calm himself. He noticed the crystal glass left out, a lipstick stain on its rim. An empty bottle of Rinoa's favorite Galbadian bourbon beside it. Squall sighed as he glanced back into the apartment. He finished his cigarette and made his way to the bedroom, sliding into bed next to Rinoa.

He fell asleep quickly.

* * *

 _He was at a beach. Balamb beach to be exact. The moon was full, and its light was dancing off the gentle waves in front of him. It was serenity in physical form_.

_Squall heard a noise and turned to find Rinoa beside him, wearing his SeeD t-shirt. She smiled hesitantly and offered her hand._

_Squall did not return the smile, but did take her hand. He knew he was dreaming. But, this was the first time she had ever pulled him into a dream. Usually, it was always the reverse. Him waiting, him calling. Eventually she would appear. Apparently, she knew they were dreaming as well._

_If they were dreaming, he couldn't_ _**really** _ _hurt her._

_Clever, clever Rinoa. She knew how much he desired her, and this was the perfect place. Rinoa was acutely aware that it would be a while before Squall was willing to make love to her in reality, but here… they could be together. Squall's anger had been rolling off of him near tangibly across the Garden when they were awake, and Rinoa wasn't stupid enough to think that he was no longer furious with her. Coming to the dream world was a perfect compromise._

_Even if he lost control, there would be no ramifications for his actions. It was a dream, after all. Wasn't it?_

_Her voice interrupted him from his thoughts. "You know," she said coyly, "I've always wanted to skinny dip."_

_She pulled her hand from his and very slowly and sensually lifted the shirt over her head. Wearing nothing underneath. After she tossed it onto the sand at Squall's feet, she looked up at him, putting on an oh-so-innocent face, and winked._

_Clever, clever Rinoa._

_The Sorceress slowly backed into the water, curling her finger towards her Knight, enticing him to follow her. Her eyes never left his._

_Dammit._

_He relented, peeling off his boxers and jogging to catch up with her._

_Squall grabbed her and lifted her up, her legs automatically going around his waist and locking behind him. He kissed her roughly as he charged into the water. It was warm and pleasant, the waves lapping up to his chest._

_Rinoa's skin was luminous and enticing in the moonlight. He wanted all of it._

_Clever, clever Rinoa._

_She pulled back from his kisses and smiled at him, as he brushed damp locks of hair gently from her face. Suddenly she gasped and gestured into the ocean beyond._

" _A dolphin!"_

" _It's beautiful," Squall said softly as he stared at her, his hand tracing her collarbone gently._

_Rinoa shook her head and laughed. "Did you know dolphins can sense when a woman is pregnant? They will find her and surround her in the water. Something about protection from predators."_

" _Interesting," Squall responded as his lips attached themselves to her neck, "Where'd you hear that?" His free hand slipped down to trace her glorious bottom and squeeze not-so-gently._

" _Mmmm…" Rinoa tilted her head to give Squall better access, shimmying her hips down towards him, desiring his very obvious excitement. "The library…"_

_Squall grunted and pulled her against his body, sheathing himself within her enticing heat._

_Instead of roughly ravaging her as he had planned, Squall gently made love to the woman in his arms. The warm water lapped against their bodies as he held her against his strong chest, his hands guiding her hips against his. He placed soft, loving kisses along her neck, her cheeks, and lips, whispering declarations of his devotion._

_The healing water washed away Rinoa's guilt._

_And assuaged Squall's anger._

" _You're a goddess, Rinoa…"_

_It had never been so obvious that she was Hyne incarnate as her skin glowed in the soft moonlight, water droplets twinkling on her body._

" _Let me worship you…"_

_**I'll make them all worship you.** _

* * *

_**BOOM** _

A resounding explosion jolted the couple awake from their dream. Rinoa jerked up in bed, clutching her chest, trying to calm her racing heart. Halfway between terrified and in pleasure. As she took a deep, calming breath, grasping at the rings around her neck for comfort, she could still feel the sensation of Squall deep inside her, even though they were no longer dreaming.

The bedroom smelled like the ocean.

Squall looked up at her, eyeing her carefully. She was no longer wearing his SeeD shirt. Her hair was damp, small droplets of water dripping off the ends and onto the mattress. Down her bare chest. Peppering her skin with glistening moisture. His eyes followed a droplet of water over her breast and paused on her erect nipple. He could practically smell her pleasure—mixed with the salt scent of the ocean- and smirked to himself at the sight of her arousal.

She had clearly remembered the dream as well.

"What was that?" She turned towards her knight as he gently pulled her back down to the bed, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. His earlier anger had faded with the dream. For the moment at least.

Squall lit a cigarette with a snap of his fingers, Rinoa's natural magic coursing through him once again. He rubbed up and down her arm with his free hand, pulling him towards his chest.

"Transformer explosion, probably. Looks like the power is out." He motioned with the cigarette to his digital clock at the bedside table, which was off. "Generators will kick in soon."

Rinoa sighed into his chest, relaxing quickly and falling back to sleep. The dream had exhausted her.

Squall could not sleep. He was charged with energy, pulsating with magic. It was speaking to him, urging him.

Hyne was telling him what to do.

After squashing his cigarette into the ashtray on his nightstand, he touched the digital clock. It sparked back to life with a buzz, the red numbers blinking back at him.

Nothing else in the room had electricity restored. The rest of the power was still out. The generators had not kicked in.

He pulled his hand back and paused, starting at it.

It was glowing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you to my amazing beta, **Bebedora**.
> 
> There are a series of Still life paintings with various titles painted in the Dutch Golden Age of painting. They were indeed allegories of death. Probably the most famous painters of these was William Claez Heda. He has paintings all over, from the National Gallery of Art, to the Rijks, to the Louvre, to the MOMA, to the Hermitage (St. Petersburg). He was best known for his ability to paint lemon peels. Back when he was painting a lemon would have been a rare high luxury good, so having them in the paintings was quite symbolic.


	9. Gluttony

**Mortal Sin**

**Chapter 8: Gluttony**

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

Those who commit the sin of gluttony are punished in the third circle of hell. There they are ruled by the monster Cerberus. Forced to live in slush and vomit, created by never ending freezing rain, assaulting their naked bodies. Humans’ propensity for gluttony can be seen in the many excuses for feasts they seem to create. It’s why so many commit this sin. The bean-feast is one of these foolish dinners. Created for man to be a glutton. Fascinated with this sin, the _Bean Feast King_ is a subject of many paintings. At least, that’s what they teach in the Art History course at Garden.

* * *

His hand continued to glow for the remainder of the week. Squall found that Rinoa’s magic was even more powerful than before—coursing through his veins. It was like a lifeforce inside of him, humming constantly in the back of his head. At times, it was difficult to control, and he would shoot off accidental spells when he was distracted or surprised. It reminded him of when Rinoa first became a sorceress. She would sneeze, and a meltdown spell would fly out of her fingertips. The other day in his office, his phone rang and he ended up setting a stack of papers on fire.

Squall almost always wore gloves, so no one saw the glowing, it also stopped them from seeing the spark of magic on his fingertips. As the glowing eventually subsided, the magic waned with it. The Commander finally understood what it felt like to be a Sorceress…and it was _addictive_. He wondered if he was slowly taking over Rinoa’s powers via the Bond and Fhang Zeng.

But for now, he had a mission to do.

Balamb Beach truly was a beautiful place. Rare white sand beaches and crystal clear water. It was never humid, nor too hot, and the water was never cold. In short, it was a mini-paradise. No wonder the locals so fiercely tried to protect it from the rest of the world. It was their secret oasis.

Zell and Squall sat on the sand, their toes dipping in the water at a secluded end near a cave that would only appear at low tide. The sun was shining down on them. Pleasant and not too warm, as it always was.

The pleasantness couldn’t mask everything.

Squall knew Zell sensed he was uncomfortable. In pain. Emotionally, physically. Though, as the Commander sighed softly, he took solace in the fact that his tattooed friend more than likely misunderstood the reason behind his fidgeting.

Hyne was speaking to him through his dreams. Squall realized that now. Each dream had been a symbol. A command—of what he was to do. Since Rinoa had the power of Hyne residing inside her, Hyne was using Rinoa as a vessel to speak to Squall. Though, he supposed that now that he had figured out how to draw from Rinoa, he had some of Hyne resting in him as well.

First, the dream of the Memorial where Rinoa promised herself to him, it was Hyne’s way of telling him to build an altar to her. Then, the dreams of Centra, a warning of Cid’s disloyalty. Hyne was wise, and had guided him to the orphanage. After confronting Cid, Squall knew that he was a danger to them. 

And then, a few nights before, the dream in Balamb. Balamb could only represent one person in their lives. Squall really didn’t want to be correct on this one, and figured he could at least try and sniff the situation out before he had to take action.

Zell was his best friend. Well, aside from Rinoa, of course. Out of all of the Fated Children, Zell was always the one he figured he would remain friends with for the rest of his life. He truly liked the other mercenary, no matter how annoying he could be. 

He didn’t want to be right about Hyne’s message. 

_Let it be a mistake_.

Zell cleared his throat. “You okay, man? You seem kind of…what’s the word? Frustrated?”

Squall shook his head and looked up at the sky, closing his eyes. “I’m good...”

“You sure? You’ve barely said two words after you invited me here. I mean, that’s sort of normal for you, but still.” Zell shrugged. “If you invited me here, you obviously wanted to talk about something, right?”

“Whatever.”

“I mean, I’m happy to hang with you and all…but two dudes sitting at the beach together in silence? That’s a little—I don’t swing that way you know?” 

Squall rolled his eyes. Though the tone in Zell’s voice made him pause. Was there something about Zell that he didn’t know? He seemed overly defensive. Nervous, even.

Zell chuckled, glad to get somewhat of a reaction. “If you didn’t want to talk to me in private, why don’t we invite Rinoa and Lisa? Have some cute girls in bikinis to stare at while we shoot the shit?”

“Who?”

“Rinoa, dude, you know, your girlfriend?”

Squall pinched the bridge of his nose. “No. Who’s Lisa?”

Zell stared at Squall like he was a tri-face. “Lisa. Dude. I’ve told you this, like, eight times. The girl from the library with the pigtails.”

“They aren’t pigtails.”

“For the love of…” Zell jumped up and kicked the sand in front of him, before pacing around in circles.

Squall remained stoic, unsure of how to broach the subject he needed to. He needed to ascertain if Zell was a threat. A threat to Rinoa. To him.

Finally, Zell stopped pacing, standing behind the Commander, and letting out a deep, heavy sigh. “Is this about the graduation ball eight months ago?”

Squall raised an eyebrow, but instead of disagreeing, decided to let this play out. He remembered the ball well, specifically because Seifer was there for the first time since the War. Zell had disappeared and Quistis left shortly after him. He had thought it a little fishy at the time—but he had been drinking that night and couldn’t completely remember. What they wanted to do was their business anyway.

He stayed silent.

“I’m guessing Rinoa told you?” Zell asked.

Squall merely shrugged noncommittedly. But there was a lump in his throat.

“Okay, so she kissed me, right? We were all in uniform and she was _plastered_. I’m sure you remember that.”

Squall remembered that part well. Rinoa spent the entire next day in bed with a huge hangover. “Rinoa kissed you?”

Zell rubbed his neck sheepishly. “Well, more like accosted me, yeah. She was all ‘Squall, baby,’ and the next thing I know she was making out with me. Then, out of nowhere, she pulls away from me and pukes in a potted plant. I tried to stop her, dude, she really thought I was you.”

Squall began to laugh. And laugh. And laugh until he couldn’t breathe. Zell stared at him in shock. The image of an intoxicated Rinoa trying to glomp onto Zell and puking in the middle of the Garden ballroom was too much. He wasn’t upset at all. 

After the laughter subsided, Zell sat next to Squall again in the sand. “You’re really not mad? ‘Cause I was anticipating a fight. Or at least a punch…”

Squall reached into a cooler they had brought with them and passed a beer over to him before taking one for himself. “Not mad.”

Watching Zell drink the beer out of the corner of his eye, Squall merely pretended to drink his own.

Finally, Zell let out a long sigh. “Have you…seen Rinoa use magic recently?”

Shit.

Squall decided to stick with the non-committal approach. “I don’t really train with her.”

“Really?” Zell seemed generally perplexed.

The Commander shrugged.

“We go to the training center together a lot. Me and Rinoa, you know.”

That came as a surprise. He had no idea that Rinoa regularly trained with Zell. There were many things, he realized, that he did not know about Rinoa. That much had been abundantly clear when he discovered the pills in her bag.

“Yeah, man, she’s a great training partner, but lately? I don’t think I’ve seen her use magic in over two months.” Zell said, quickly finishing his beer.

Squall could tell that Zell was fishing for information. He wasn’t stupid, and more important, he knew Zell was extremely smart. And an excellent interrogator. His “bro” persona was just that—an image. Underneath the happy-go-lucky, seemingly whiny, luck-starved exterior was a highly intelligent, ruthless interrogator, who was able to read people better than anyone else Squall had ever met. Even better than Squall himself.

To make it even worse, Zell was a genuinely good guy on top of it. A nice guy. _Too_ nice, unless it was on the battlefield.

It made Hyne’s command that much harder.

Squall idly handed Zell another beer. “Hm. I hadn’t really noticed.”

Zell leaned back on his elbows and stared at the blue sky. “Really? That’s not why you were researching chi in the library the other day? Why you _really_ asked me here?”

“Zell…”

“If something is going on with her and her chi is all messed up…I could help, man. Just ask me. Is something messing up her magic? If—” Zell stopped mid-sentence and Squall could tell gears in his head were turning.

Why did Zell have to be so smart?

He wasn’t smart enough to shut up though.

“Your magic has been stronger lately.” The martial artist said softly.

“Rinoa’s a good teacher.”

“Yeah, she is, dude. She is.”

They both remained silent for a moment.

“But—you haven’t been junctioned.” Zell finally said.

_Shit._

Zell continued. “I know how Fhang Zeng works, Squall. I’m sure you were looking at it to try and help her. But I can tell she’s off. Her chi is a mess and she can’t even muster a basic cure spell. Please, let me help you, man.” He pleaded earnestly.

Squall snorted slightly. “Gods, I can’t believe I never saw it before…”

Zell gave him a puzzled look. “Saw what?”

“You’re in love with her.”

“Dude…” Zell held up his hands defensively.

“Hey, I get it. Obviously.”

“You got it all wrong, bro. I _love_ Rinoa. She’s my best friend, but I’m not _in love_ with her. I don’t even like--”

Squall _knew_ that Zell was lying.

Zell had stopped himself from saying anything else, and Squall got the sense that he was hiding a massive secret. Unfortunately for Zell, Squall was incorrect in his assumption of what Zell was failing to disclose.

“You’d do anything for her…” Squall rose from his seat and began to walk towards the martial artist.

On instinct, Zell took a few steps back, fearing Squall was going to punch him across the face. “Of course I would.” And he meant it.

“Even…give your life?” Squall asked menacingly.

“Squall? Look, dude, you’re way off base here. Rinoa and I aren’t like that. Besides, I’ve kind of got a date in a little bit--”

“ _Slow down...”_

The blonde was immediately sluggish. He stumbled as if his feet were encased in lead, his entire body moving as though he was underwater. Slowed by the currents. Half-speed.

Slowed.

Zell’s eyes bulged as he realized he’d been spellbound. Unable to defend himself properly, unable to flee without being caught.

Squall sighed deeply and felt a pang of guilt as he saw the clear look of betrayal on Zell’s face. “I didn’t want to have to do this to you, Zell. I really, _really_ didn’t.”

Shaking his head in disappointment, Squall approached his friend. Zell immediately tried to fight back, to fend off the Commander, but the slow spell wouldn’t allow it. His punches were in slow-motion and feeble. He desperately tried to get to his feet, only to have Squall sweep them out from beneath him. Again, and again, Zell tried to stand. Again, and again—Squall knocked him down.

Their awkward dance continued, Zell struggling to defend himself. He quickly tired, face flushed red with exertion, chest heaving—slowly—as he panted. When he was finally able to get to his feet without Squall forcing him back to the ground, the tattooed martial artist lashed out.

Squall allowed it.

Moving unnaturally slow, as if his feet were encased in lead, his limbs sluggishly flailing. Like he was moving through syrup. The once-agile SeeD had been reduced to a bumbling, listless, poor excuse for a mercenary.

But it didn’t stop him from trying.

Zell fought. Admirably, considering he was under the control of a spell bolstered by the powers of a Sorceress. A languid punch, a lethargic kick. Squall made sure to always stay _just_ out of arms’ reach. Frustration—and fear—crossed Zell’s face. But more than anything—acceptance. It was apparent the moment he realized he would not leave this place alive—or uninjured—for his face contorted with disbelieving terror. His Commander, his _friend_ —had turned on him. And for what?

Squall evaded his attacks with ease, and effortlessly subdued him. Finally. The pangs of guilty were creeping up on him, and buried deep within, deep below the mania Hyne’s commands created, he was fighting with himself.

He could not allow those feelings of regret to win. Not when he had a mission from the God.

Squall dragged the young man away, low moans of despair gurgling from Zell’s mouth. As the marital artist tried to kick himself free, it was obvious he was hopelessly incapacitated. Squall simply ignored the sounds, and continued toward the secluded cave. It’s why he had chosen this location for their afternoon together. No one came to this side of the beach, and the tide was low enough that they could enter now.

“You left me with no choice.” Squall said as he nonchalantly tossed Zell’s body down onto the rocky ocean shelf

Bouncing against the sharp rocks, Zell reminded Squall of a ragdoll. There was no way to brace himself, and he bounced awkwardly. Head slamming against the rocks, limbs limp. When his body finally came to a stop, he landed atop a jagged stone, pressed into his back. A large gash appeared on his bicep, crimson liquid streaming down his toned arm. More blood soon followed, flowing from his nose, his mouth.

At first blood, Squall’s instinct took over.

The guilt—the regret—left him.

As Zell tried in vain to drag himself away, the spell making him move at a snail’s pace, Squall couldn’t control himself. The bloodlust had consumed him. He pounced on the tattooed man, pinning him to the rocks. Zell brought up a shaky, slothful hand and tried to punch him away. The movement was so slow that Squall easily deflected it. 

“You saw too much. Thought too much. You’d end up betraying her. Getting her hurt. So…I have to do this.”

Squall removed a glass vial and a syringe from his pocket and slowly began drawing medication from the bottle as Zell’s eyes bulged in horror.

“You were a medic, right?” Squall continued to narrate his actions for the slowed Zell. “I remember you always saying about sedating before you paralyze someone. Something about intubation. That the paralytic drug makes them suffocate and its quite uncomfortable without it. You always said, ‘there’s no reason for them to suffer more’.”

Zell tried to plead with him, but his words came out jumbled. As if his tongue was dry and made of cotton. Slurred together, incoherent. 

But Squall knew what he was trying to say. He was begging for his life. Pleading with his friend to stop the madness and let him go. So they could talk. Zell always was the diplomat. 

Diplomacy would not save him today.

“I meant to get the sedative, but couldn’t find it, so I’m sorry to say your death is going to be painful.” The menacing knight leaned over Zell’s bent, sluggish body to look directly into his terrified eyes. Ensured Zell understood him. Understood the dire situation. “I really am sorry… _dude_.”

Grabbing Zell’s arm roughly, he held onto his bleeding bicep until a vein appeared below. A quick jab of the needle, a push of the drug inside, and the job was done.

Zell’s mouth gaped as the drug began to course through his body. It was apparent in his eyes that he understood the gravity of the situation. Ninety seconds. Maximum. And then, that would be it. A feeble blizzaga spell bubbled on his fingertips, a last-ditch effort to defend himself, to save his life. 

Squall stared down at the blonde, reading the betrayal that flashed across his eyes. He wrapped his hand around Zell’s magically-glowing fingertips, extinguishing the magical ice. The once-lively martial artist had been reduced to a quivering, struggling shell of a man. He was gasping for breath as the muscles in his body slowly paralyzed. His diaphragm now almost unable to contract, making it impossible for air to enter the lungs. It probably felt like he was drowning on air. 

“Of everyone, you were the one I trusted most. I even… _liked_ you. Cherished your friendship.” Squall shook his head slowly, sadly. Drew a soothing hand down Zell’s cheek as a terrified tear rolled down the flushed skin. Wiped it away. “And now…”

Squall pulled a diving knife from his boot. The light reflecting off the ocean waves glinted on the metal blade. Holding Zell’s languidly flailing arm tightly in his hand, he traced a line from his bicep to his wrist, making certain to sever the brachial artery as he moved. 

Zell cried out, a low, slow moan. Almost inhuman. His lungs were being paralyzed, his throat constricting. He was in obvious agony, for the veins in his neck bulged as he strained against the drug. Against the magic of his friend. The spell’s aura ensured whatever sound tumbled from his lips was indistinguishable. 

The Commander watched as even Zell’s blood seemed to move in slow-motion. Pumping like thick oil. He moved to the other arm, mirroring his slices on the other muscle. 

Zell’s hand moved in sluggishly. Reached out to grab Squall’s. Grab the knife. He continued to gasp. The drugs had almost taken total effect and his body was going rigid. Soon, he’d be completely unable to breathe.

Squall merely swatted the martial artist’s hand away. “You know, Rinoa always thought your jokes were funny. And, I hate to admit it, but some of them actually were.” Squall pressed his knife into Zell’s chest, blood welling up in the divot between his collarbones. “It’s a shame, really…I might just miss hearing them.”

The tattooed SeeD reached for Squall’s hand again. This time, not menacing, not in defense. In disbelief. A reluctant understanding. Acceptance. His eyes twinkled with sorrowful moisture. One last effort to bargain for his life. To beg for mercy. 

Squall would not let himself falter. Would not allow Zell to test his emotions. Hyne had commanded him. Rinoa deserved the offerings. _He_ —craved the power.

Before the drugs completely took him and the light from Zell’s eyes went out, Squall plunged his diving knife into Zell’s stomach. One last moment of glory. “I need one more thing from you. Hyne demands this.” 

Squall took his time drawing the blade through his belly, dissecting the toned, healthy muscles. 

Zell was no longer able to cry out, to gasp. His body was paralyzed. Eyes locked disbelievingly on Squall, mouth agape. A trickle of bloody saliva dripping from the corner of his lips

As Squall tore the organ from the flesh and examined it, Zell’s eyes finally went dead, staring into space. Zell Dincht was no more. 

The liver was fattened and large. It reminded Squall of the livers in the animals they force feed to make them fattened up for foie gras. Probably from Zell’s terrible diet. It was a perfect sacrifice for Hyne.

It was now nightfall and the tide was as its lowest. Squall pulled Zell’s body from the cove. Once it was floating in the ocean, he tied a rope around the feet and began dragging it behind him in a small kayak. Finally far enough out, he tied rocks to the limbs, released the tow line, and let the body sink to the bottom of Balamb Ocean. The monsters would take care of the rest.

“I really am sorry, Zell…” He whispered into the night air as he watched the form slowly sink to the bottom of the sea. “Farewell.”

* * *

Squall made his way to the Sorceress Memorial to offer his latest sacrifice to Hyne. Thunder boomed in the background. Something that almost never happened in Esthar. 

Lightning streaked across the desert sky. It was probably a heat storm. It hadn’t rained in Esthar in nearly a century. The rumble of the thunder caused Squall to shudder slightly, and reminded him of a thundaga spell coursing through his skin. 

Heart beating rapidly, he knelt in front of the small makeshift altar, preparing to dig a hole for his latest sacrifice to Hyne.

As he began to dig, he felt something. A drop? Unlikely. 

Looking up at the sky to confirm that there was no way it was raining, Squall saw the heavens open up and rain began to pound down on him in heavy droplets. The drops made a distinct pitter patter against the stone of his altar, and he could hear the sound of them banging against the steel of the Sorceress’ Memorial behind him.

There could be no doubt.

Hyne was blessing him.

Staring up into the dark clouds, he let the rain wash away his pain from killing Zell. It’s not that he felt guilty any longer—those feelings had been fleeting—he had been doing Hyne’s will. But, he was sad to lose his friend, even if he knew Zell was a threat to his and Rinoa’s safety. Squeezing Zell’s liver in his hand, he thrust it into the air in a fist as he stood.

“You see? You tested me, and I did it! I didn’t fail you.” He screamed to the heavens.

Thunder boomed again in the background.

“You’re happy. I can tell. I listened and obeyed!” He shouted up into the sky before kneeling down and burying Zell’s liver next to Cid’s gall bladder and Laguna’s head.

A strike of lightning hit the top of the Sorceress Memorial nearby with a deafening crack, the light casting eerie shadows from Hyne’s altar.

A realization hit him.

It felt like the magic he absorbed from Rinoa, combined with the rain of Esthar—that he could _feel_ Hyne inside of him. He finally understood His will.

It was never Rinoa. The Sorceress was merely a vessel. She was never the chosen one.

It was _him._

Rinoa was his pathway to Hyne. Rinoa was his _gift_ from Hyne. His way to absolution for his sins. His pet. His weapon. She belonged to him. Hyne had dictated it.

But _he_ was the one chosen as Hyne’s descendent. Not Rinoa, like he had originally thought. It’s why he could take her magic. It’s why he was the one who had to do Hyne’s will. Rinoa never understood. Rinoa couldn’t _hear_ Him.

It wouldn’t be Rinoa they would bow down to…it would be _him_.

“They will worship _me_.” Squall said softly. Reverently “…because you _chose_ me.” 

Squall clenched his fists proudly. His body felt as if it were alight with energy. Euphoria. Power.

“I finally understand now…with Rinoa at my feet, I can destroy them all.”

He stood proudly and chanted at the memorial.

_Dies iræ, dies illa_ _  
Solvet sæclum in favilla_

Suddenly, he was no longer sad that Zell was dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was extremely difficult for me to write. I love Zell. I did not want to do this. Many thanks to **Bebedora** , my wonderful beta, who made this a possibility.  
>  _The Bean King_ is a painting by Jacob Jordaens and hangs at The Hermitage in St. Petersburg. It depicts a bean feast, which is a traditional feast that a land owner would give to works mid-summer as a thank you. There was a cake that had a bean in it, and the person who got the bean was "the bean king" for the rest of the party. Similar to a king cake.


	10. Luxuria: (Or Lust: Part 1)

**Mortal Sin**

**Chapter 9: Luxuria (Or Lust: Part 1)**

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

All humans suffer from lust. It may not be for the carnal desires of the flesh. Perhaps it is too much longing for money, power, influence. The lust for any of these makes humans a plaything for demons. Controls man’s action and leads to even more sin in order to obtain the object of their desire. There is a painting that depicts the sin of lust, as well as its consequences. How lust eventually causes paradise to become hell. _The Garden of Earthly Delights._ At least, that’s what they teach in the Art History course at Garden.

* * *

Seifer was irritated to say the least. He had taken the time to book a room in a discrete hotel in Balamb for the occasion. His date had never stood him up. _Ever._ No text, no call, not even a smoke signal or carrier pigeon. He knew that they were in high demand as a SeeD and it was _possible_ they had been sent on a mission and was unable to make contact. But Seifer always received a call if their plans had to be cancelled due to SeeD business. Unless they didn’t get the chance to. He hoped this was one of those times, even though he was growing ever-irritated. And a little worried. Still, his lover was always the nice one in the relationship—it was certainly out of character for them to have zero contact.

In reality, Seifer had no clue why the SeeD even put up with him. Sure, they had been dancing around each other for years before they actually got together. And Seifer was one of the few people who were aware of their _preferences._

To him it was plain as day—Zell’s tattoo may as well have been rainbow themed.

Seifer was into _anyone…_ as long as he was on top. He made no secret of it either—he played both sides and had been around the block more times than he would admit to. But now, he had finally settled down.

If Seifer was being honest, he had _always_ had a thing for the brawler. The fact that it eventually was reciprocated was the real shocker. Their relationship strangely came out of Time Compression. That experience had fucked with all their heads. Zell’s, more than he let on. And Seifer understood having your head fucked with better than _anyone_ —and something blossomed from there. An unlikely alliance. 

They all coped in their own way. Zell drank. Alone in his room. A _lot._ No one knew about that except Seifer. Rinoa took pills. Selphie and Irvine did Hyne-knows-what, but he imagined it involved whips and chains. Quistis was a masochist. Squall was a sadist.

Zell didn’t deserve his ire. Seifer knew the marital artist would have contacted him if he had been able.

The former knight was definitely _frustrated_. It had been a while and he was looking forward to having the other blonde underneath him once again. Eager to touch him. Zell insisted on keeping up the farce with the Library Girl. He really didn’t understand why they couldn’t come out. It’s not like they weren’t committed and exclusive with each other. They _were._ Didn’t the library girl think it was a little strange that all Zell did after over a year “together” was barely peck her on the lips?

Deep down, Seifer wasn’t sure if Zell kept their relationship hidden because it was with Seifer, the failed ex-SeeD, failed ex-Knight, or if it was the fact that Seifer was a man. 

Sighing, he called the only other person who knew about their illicit trysts. He knew Zell wouldn’t mind. After all, the person had joined them in bed on many occasions. He had an itch to scratch after all. Zell would understand. It was sort of an unspoken agreement that he wasn’t cheating if it was with _her._ She was a guest star in their relationship, even if she desperately wished she was part of the main cast.

Dialing a number he had memorized, the person answered quickly. _“Hello?”_

“Hey…what are you doing right now?”

 _“Seifer?”_ The voice asked.

Seifer nodded, even though the woman on the other line couldn’t see him. “Yup. Is chicken-wuss on a mission? He was supposed to meet me.”

A sigh. _“Umm…I didn’t think so. But it’s possible. I don’t keep up with that roster.”_

“Well, he’s not here, and I got a hotel room and everything…” Sefier left the statement in the air as a question.

A pause. A hitched voice. _“What’s the room number?”_

“305.”

Seifer flopped back on the bed with a grin. It wasn’t the person he was expecting tonight, but he would certainly enjoy it.

* * *

Seifer awoke to hair tickling his nose. Blonde hair. Splayed across his chest. Soft familiar curves pressed up against his naked body. She was stirring, starting to rub her hand along his washboard stomach.

“Morning, baby.” He murmured down to Quistis before turning his head to the side, noticing the empty space on the bed, remembering that Zell wasn’t there.

Seifer gazed in the direction of the bathroom door. Any moment now, Zell would emerge, a towel secured around his waist, bronze chiseled chest sparkling with droplets of water. His hair would be wet and flopped in his face—just the way Seifer liked it—when he had to keep brushing it back to get out of his eyes, without all that stupid product he always put in. He looked like the sun. He _was_ the sun. Full of joy, radiating happiness wherever he went—they were both lucky to be in his orbit.

Zell would say something dumb like. “You guys start without me?” And he would stare at Quistis like she was the most beautiful thing in the world and then he would tell her as much. Then Zell would crawl over Seifer and kiss him tenderly and Seifer would let him carry on with that sentimental nonsense because he didn’t _always_ have to be such an asshole...and it made Zell happy. And underneath it all—he really liked making Zell happy.

And then…

And then…

Quistis’ pleasant roaming hands distracted him. “Morning…” she murmured, placing a kiss on his chest.

“Take it you slept well?” Seifer shifted his hips up playfully, before reaching to the nightstand to grab his phone. “Still nothing from chickie…” He added with a sigh.

“Seifer, he’s probably on a black-out mission. Things are crazy with Laguna missing—lots of calls for work and Zell is the best of the best. He isn’t the stand-you-up type of guy. You know that. Despite it all, he loves you.”

Seifer sighed and sank into the soft pillows. She was probably right. _Probably_. They’d been going on with whatever it was between the three of them for well over a year now. Well, Quistis only became a part of it eight or so months ago—the night of the last graduation. 

It wasn’t _that_ uncommon for him to be in bed with Quistis…especially if Zell was on a mission…but _usually_ Zell was watching, and likely eventually joining. It was rarely just the two of them together. At least not like this. Not tender, not intimate. They were only ever like that with _him._

Quistis was just as fucked up as the rest of them. She gladly and willingly gave herself over to them as a living, breathing toy to do whatever they wanted with. Total depravity. Why she did, he had no idea. But, it seemed to make her happy and give her some sort of release from _something._ Probably the same release he felt being with Zell.

Quistis had begged Seifer for a specific favor and after months of pleading, he finally agreed. He was the only person who hated himself enough to do it. But he loved her. He loved both of them. So, he gave them each what they needed. 

When Quistis had a particular itch that needed to be scratched, Zell left the two of them alone. He had no desire to witness it. Zell treated Quistis like something that could be spoiled. Gentle, tender with her. What a joke.

Hyne, he didn’t deserve either of them.

They were all so fucked up. _All_ of them. Fuck Time Compression. Fuck Sorceresses. 

Except Rinoa. 

She wasn’t the threat anyway. It was her _knight_ that Seifer was worried about. Something strange was happening that he couldn’t put his finger on.

The former instructor put a cigarette in that ridiculous fancy holder she used so her hands wouldn’t smell. “Want one?” She offered an extra, and stuck it in his mouth before he could answer.

Seifer chuckled slightly and grabbed his monogramed lighter off the dresser. A birthday present from Zell. In an uncharacteristically gentlemanly gesture, he lit Quistis’ cigarette before lighting his own. Taking a deep drag, he sighed. “Hey Quis...why is Zell so secretive about…you know…me?”

Quistis exhaled loudly, hating this question. “Seifer, a lot of people are going to be hurt if this ever comes out. Zell is protective, you know? Rinoa won’t understand why Zell didn’t confide in her. Those two are terribly close, and I’m pretty sure Rinoa knows Zell is far from straight. Ma will be hurt that Zell hid it from her. And he _does_ care about Lisa, even if he doesn’t see her the same way she sees him.”

 _‘…if this ever comes out’._ She should say _when_. Not _if_.

“Who the fuck is Lisa?”

“You’re…you’re not serious.”

Seifer shook his head. 

“Lisa is the girl from the library, Seifer. You’ve been told that, like, fifteen times.”

“Her name is _Lisa?_ Seriously?”

Qustis pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed.

His strong arms pulled her back in closer, resting her head on his chest, hand running through her hair. “I’m sorry, baby. The only girl I pay attention to is you. But…you sure the reason he doesn’t say anything is…you know. Because it’s _me?”_

Qustis shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe he’s embarrassed that he’s in a relationship with a guy who publicly makes fun of him all the time? You’re kind of an asshole, Seifer.”

“I’m an asshole to everyone, though.”

“You’re worse with Zell.”

It was true. It was because he had always wanted him so much and never thought he’d be lucky enough to have the feeling reciprocated. He had become nicer over the years—or maybe more of a jerk to everyone else. More than likely though, the secrecy was because by going public, they all had to figure out just what the hell it was between them. 

Zell was too damn _nice._ Maybe _that’s_ why he was always such an asshole to him. It was easier to be a dick than to say, ‘I love you, please don’t leave me’. Their feelings all got sorted out in the bedroom anyway.

He very much doubted Quistis would want Garden to know that she was at the beck and call of Ultimecia’s former knight. That the place she wanted to be most was between a couple whose relationship she forced her way into. Or that she liked to dominated. For once, completely under the control of someone else. Letting go. Helpless. 

They were all so fucked up. Zell was the most normal of all of them, though he needed to get his other foot out of the closet. He was the glue that held whatever this was together.

It all started when Quistis used her executive code to open Zell’s locked door at Garden the night of the last graduation ball. She entered to find Zell on his knees in front of a very naked Seifer. Seifer hadn’t even noticed until Zell pulled away and said something. Quistis had just _stood_ there silently, before whispering. “I suspected as much.” There had been another awkward moment of silence before she hung her head. Refused to look at them. Uttered the most heartbreaking words he had ever heard. “I just…want someone to love me too.”

Zell had reached his hand out to her, pulling her into the room and towards them. “But, we already both love you, Quistie.” He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. The next thing Seifer knew, he was kissing her and that was that. She became their guest. 

Everything was _so_ fucked up. Fuck Time Compression. Fuck Sorceresses.

Except Rinoa.

“How’s Rinoa been? Commander Dildo doesn’t say anything when I see him,” Seifer asked.

Quistis paused. “I’m…not sure.”

Seifer frowned. Concerned. She probably hadn’t heard from her in weeks. No one really had. Why should he think Quistis would be any different? At least he still figured Rinoa was around—somewhere—or Squall would have been a grade-A demon. He was like a rabid wendigo if he wasn’t getting laid. Seifer’s thoughts were stopped when he felt Quistis’ hand trailing lower down on his stomach. Tangling her fingers in the tuft of hair at the apex of his groin. The ex-knight grinned. “When do you need to be back at Garden?”

“I cleared my calendar for the entire day.”

Smashing his cigarette in the ashtray, he flipped Quistis on her back and pinned her with a rough kiss. “Oh yeah? What’d you have in mind?”

She motioned to the bag she had brought with her last night. “Save me.”

Seifer studied her eyes carefully. “You’re needing _that_ , huh?”

Quistis nodded.

Seifer sighed a little. “What’s the safe word?”

She stared up into his beautiful green eyes with complete vulnerability. She was ready to let him do anything. “Emerald.”

And, like always, she _never_ used the safe word.

* * *

Seifer was helping Quistis dress, carefully zipping up the back of her skirt as he leaned down and softly kissed her neck. “Feel better?”

Quistis nodded. “Thank you.” She was clasping her bra and admiring herself in the mirror. Truly appreciating the work Seifer had done to her body. Littered with marks. There was slight bruising at her neck, and she’d have to wear a scarf for the next few days. It was exactly what she had wanted. Seifer knew where it was and wasn’t safe to leave marks. The places she could and couldn’t cover. He’d done this enough times for her—after she’d begged him to. Otherwise who knows where she would go for it, and what someone else would do. At least they both knew she was safe with him.

Seifer really, _really_ did not enjoy hurting her. Sure, he liked to tie her up and be kinky. He _really_ liked it when he and Zell took her at the same time. But, he hated when she needed _this_. He hated himself. It was this or her being drugged up like the rest of Garden, he supposed. Or going to some depraved stranger who wouldn’t stop.

Fuck Time Compression. Fuck Sorceresses (except Rinoa). Fuck Garden.

“Quis…” He said softly, reaching up to help her fix up her hair. “Let’s just…slow down. Slow down with me.”

“Slow down?”

“Yeah. When chicken-wuss gets back. All three of us. Go somewhere. Fisherman’s Horizon. Start over…Garden is killing you.” If only they could get away from Garden, he was sure all of them would be better. Healthier. Garden was a poison. SeeD was poison. Sorceresses were poison.

She met his gaze in the mirror but said nothing.

“Let’s face it,” Seifer continued. “This is about as normal of a relationship any of us are going to get—”

Quistis quickly interrupted him, and nearly sounded relieved. “Okay. When Zell gets back. But let _me_ talk to him.”

Seifer smiled genuinely. Not his normal cocky grin. But a happy smile. It quickly faded though as something dawned on him. “Hey. When you get back, can you check up on Rinoa?”

The instructor raised an eyebrow. “Sure. Is something wrong?”

“I’m not sure yet. Just…do it for me and—be careful.”

She nodded, then turned around to lean up on her tiptoes and give him a chaste kiss. “I…I love you, Seifer.”

“I love you too—,” he admitted softly. And wished he could tell it to Zell as well. He really hoped he would hear from him soon. He promised he would try to be less of an asshole from now on. Maybe then…maybe then they had a chance at this.

Fuck Time Compression. Fuck Sorceresses. Fuck Garden.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my amazing beta, **Bebedora**!!  
>  _The Garden of Earthly Delights_ is a triptych painting by Hieronymus Bosch. It can be viewed in the Prado. Bosch painted it back in the late 1400s which is insane when you think about what he painted. He makes Dali look un-creative.


	11. Chapter 10: Lust

**Mortal Sin**

**Chapter 10: Lust**

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Those that are found guilty of the sin of lust are punished in the second circle of hell. In this circle, their bodies are tossed in a violent never-ending maelstrom. Reflecting their lust-driven actions in life, constantly bouncing around. One couple that is cast in this circle of hell are Francesca and Paolo, who are having an affair behind Paolo’s brother’s back, after Francesca was tricked into marrying the vile man. They are discovered, and killed. Their discovery is depicted a painting, _Gianciotto découvre Paolo et Francesca._ Or at least, that’s what they teach at the Art History course in Garden.

* * *

Squall was somewhere halfway between desire and anger. After the disposal of Zell, he desperately desired Rinoa’s body. Hyne had told him that she was the path to forgiveness for his sin. But he was still furious at her for her deceit. He didn’t care all that much if she was taking drugs. Just—nothing from that snake, Odine. He strongly suspected she was taking other pills, but it didn’t matter to him, it made her more _pliant_. She could smash up a pill and snort it up her nose with a rolled up gil-note in front of him and he wouldn’t bat an eyelash.

He was just furious that she had lied. To _him._ Her Knight. She _belonged_ to him. She was supposed to tell him _everything._ Hyne gave her to him. What else was she hiding?

He was… _unhinged._ To say the least.

Slamming the door open to his rooms, he found her sprawled out on the couch, a half-drunk bottle of white wine on the floor, and a vial of headache medicine knocked over. She awoke when he entered and smiled up at him, eyes unfocused, reaching out to him.

He cast her a nod, but did not go to her. She would have to come to him, on hands and knees, asking for forgiveness. Oh yeah. He was still pissed. But he also really, really _needed_ her. 

Instead he entered the kitchenette and leaned casually against the counter. Waiting for her. He knew she would come. Like a moth to the flame. Just like he always came back to her. They were irrevocably intertwined. Forever.

Slowly rising from the couch, she waltzed over to him with more grace than he would have thought possible, considering how intoxicated she likely was. She stumbled slightly on the coffee table and let out a cute giggle that managed to elicit a very small smile from the Commander.

Rinoa ran her hands through his chestnut hair before leaning in and smashing her lips to his. She tasted like wine and ash, and smelled of cigarettes mixed with her perfume. She wasn’t normally a smoker. He probably didn’t smell much better. He hadn’t bothered to shower after coming back from the Sorceress Memorial. Sweat, tobacco, rain water. Blood.

He didn’t bother hiding what he had done from Rinoa. Not like before—it’s not as if he would expressly _tell_ her—but he wouldn’t hide the truth if she asked. It was because of _her_ that this started in the first place. And its not like she could stop him. She could barely walk in a straight line most of the time anymore, and her magic was all but non-existent. As long as she kept giving herself to him he was content. And if she ever stopped giving—he would take. Hyne gave her to him. _His_. All his.

Squall returned the kiss for a few seconds before pushing on Rinoa’s shoulders. Pushing her down on her knees before him. Where she belonged. Where they _all_ belonged. She could pleasure him. Beg for forgiveness. Her lips would absolve him of his sins. 

“Fuck…” Squall grunted, his fingers tangling in Rinoa’s hair. He forcefully guided her head into the rhythm he craved. His other arm supported his weight, leaning back on the kitchen counter.

As her mouth moved and her tongue swirled, he felt light. His sins were fading. When she added her hand and her ministrations increased in speed, his head swam. Heat flashed over his face and he clenched his fist tighter into her hair. Pulled her close. He needed what only she could give.

She was like a woman possessed. Almost frantic as she moved her hand and lips in tandem. He kept a mighty grip on the top of her head, ensuring she could not stop until he was satisfied. And he knew, deep down, she preferred it that way. Squall threw his head back and moaned. The euphoric tingle in the pit of his stomach was expanding. 

Rinoa hummed knowingly as she let her hand drop and took him completely in her throat. Braced her hands against his thighs. 

He was close, and she’d receive his sin. For she was the cause—and the way to absolution.

A groan, a shudder, and he exploded. “Fuck…”

It was the only thing he said to her the whole night.

She smiled up at him, but he did not return the gesture. Instead he pulled his pants back up and walked to their bedroom, crawling into the bed with his back to her, quickly falling asleep.

He left Rinoa, alone, on her knees in the kitchen, tears streaming quietly down her face.

* * *

It had been over two weeks since that day. Two weeks since Zell had left for his “mission”. Two weeks since Squall had been inside her. Sure, he had been in other places on her plenty. Almost everywhere. His office, a stairwell, even the Training Center. Her knees were starting to ache, but she was desperate. It was as if she was paying for her forgiveness. Rinoa had even tested the waters and took a pill in front of him. He hadn’t cared. 

At least the pills made it easier on her knees. 

Still, she slept on the couch. Squall hadn’t explicitly banned her from their bed, but she felt unwelcome.

Strangely, despite the two weeks of pleasuring him, begging him for attention, and sleeping on the couch, Rinoa felt more alive than she had felt in months. She was acutely aware of her magic, buzzing pleasantly beneath her skin. She had successfully cast an extremely powerful flare spell in the Training Center, downing a T-Rexaur in one shot. She didn’t think she had done anything like that in nearly a year. 

Quistis noticed as well. She had paid her a surprise visit and the two of them spent an afternoon together. Quistis seemed happier than she had seen her in a long time. At peace.

They sat in the quad, enjoying a picnic and catching up. 

“So…” The mischief in Rinoa’s eyes immediately made Quistis a little nervous about whatever was going to follow. “I can tell when you’re in a good mood Quistis, and you’ve got a huge hickey on your neck. Who’s the lucky guy?”

Quistis blushed and looked down at her sandwich. “Um…”

“Seifer? Definitely has to be him, am I right?”

A small smirk crossed the blonde’s face before she could cover it up and she nodded slightly.

Rinoa pressed a finger to her lips and tapped at them slightly. “But…see, a certain _other_ blonde _may_ have confessed that he was sleeping with you as well. It couldn’t be him, because he’s been gone for two weeks. And, I could have _sworn_ _he_ was mostly into guys. A very _certain_ guy that gave you that hickey.”

Quistis met the other woman’s eyes. Leave it to Zell to spill the beans. Of course he blabbed to Rinoa that he was sleeping with both of them. Rinoa was his best friend. He knew Rinoa would never gossip and she was the only person Zell would confide in. Likely not even Squall knew. Rinoa could keep a secret. Of that Quistis was certain. What she didn’t know is to what extent Rinoa knew the terms of their relationship.

Quistis was madly in love with both of them. How it was possible, she wasn’t sure. Zell was the grounding force of joy that kept her feet on solid ground, gave her purpose, made her feel like she could do anything. Seifer was…her passion. Her challenge. He pushed her. In a good way.

He saved her from herself.

“Do…do they know about each other?” There was no scolding tone in Rinoa’s voice. No criticism. No anger.

Quistis nodded mutely, a blush creeping across her face as she thought about just how _well_ they all knew. “We’re…like a triangle.”

Rinoa’s voice dropped to barely a whisper. “…at the same time? All three of you?”

Truth be told, she was empty if it wasn’t all three of them. It was as if a limb was missing. She ached for Zell to get back so they could get out of the poison that she had come to believe Garden was. To start fresh. Did that make her selfish? Zell and Seifer were perfectly happy, as far as she knew, before she barged her way in and slowly eased herself into the relationship until she was just as much a part of it as the two of them.

Would Rinoa judge her for that? No, not Rinoa. Rinoa was always understanding of everyone. To a fault.

“Wait…” An impish look crossed Rinoa’s face. “But, who does what? I mean…goes where.” She bit her lip. “No wait, I don’t want to know.”

Quistis buried her face in her hands in embarrassment.

“No…no, I _do_ want to know. No, wait, I don’t. Or _do_ I?”

“You know I won’t tell you that, Rinoa…”

The sorceress crossed her arms in a huff. “Okay, fine. At least tell me who’s bigger. I know Seifer has got it going on, but Zell…”

“Zell.” Quistis answered without hesitation.

“ _Really?_ ”

Qustsis did a few motions with her hands as Rinoa’s eyes widened. “It should be in a museum.”

Both women burst into hysterics, and Quistis marveled at the fact that she hadn’t heard Rinoa laugh like that in almost eight months. Something had shifted and it almost felt like she had her old friend back.

_Almost._

They remained in quiet solitude for a few minutes after their laughter subsided. Finally, Quistis spoke. If anyone could understand what was going on and give loving advice, it was Rinoa. “Hey Rinoa…do you think its possible to be in love with two people at the same time? Am I crazy?”

A small smile spread over Rinoa’s face. “I’m hardly the person to ask about being crazy. But…I get it, Quisty. I really do. They’re both hunks, Zell is basically the best person in the world. So, why not? Love is love.”

Quistis grinned. “That’s what Zell says.”

There was another moment of silence, this time Rinoa broached it with a very quiet voice, mirroring Quistis’ previous question. “Hey Quistis…do you think its possible to both love and hate someone at the same time?”

“Rinoa…”

The question went unanswered, Selphie appeared, barreling toward them excitedly. “Quisty! Rinny!”

Quistis hesitated and clearly wanted to say something, but her phone pinged. She quickly scanned the screen before gathering her belongings. “I’ve gotta go, Rin. We…can we have lunch next week again?”

“I’d really like that.” Rinoa answered honestly.

Quistis stood, giving a brief wave to Selphie and Rinoa before taking her leave.

When she emerged into Garden’s atrium, Seifer was waiting for her, a bright smile on his face and his unsheathed gunblade slung across his shoulder. She hadn’t seen him this happy after a duel with Squall in almost six months. His grin widened as she came closer and he dropped Hyperion to the ground and opened his arms out to her.

Was he really going to do this here? In the middle of Garden? He’d never made any of their relationship public before. Even though she had secretly been desiring this exact moment.

Her quick steps turned into a jog as she ran into his waiting arms, throwing her arms around his neck. He lifted her easily, holding her off the ground to account for their height difference, and spun her around a few times. He was clearly in a good mood. Setting her down carefully, he leaned down and gave her a deep kiss. She knew people could see, and she was thrilled. He smelled musky, a sheen of sweat on his brow from his workout, a familiar look she was used to from him, but in _far_ different circumstances.

After what felt like an eternity, he pulled back. Hoisting his gunblade back on his shoulder, he offered his free hand to her and she gladly accepted. Almost shyly.

“You’re in a good mood.” She felt deliriously happy, and she felt almost foolish for feeling that way.

“I beat Commander DickEater.” Seifer shot her a toothy grin that _almost_ reminded her of Zell. Not his usual cocky smirk, but a grin of genuine happiness. “He tried to cast firaga and it barely managed to singe me.” Seifer boasted proudly.

“Mmmm…so, you’re saying you want to celebrate?”

Releasing her hand, Seifer reached down and gave her bottom a squeeze. “Yup. All _night_ , baby. Though, Commander AssFace told me Chickie is still on mission. But I think we can still make a good night of it.”

Quistis smiled widely. She always felt a little jealous of Zell and Seifer, but she finally realized that Seifer was just as happy with both of them. That they were a unit, and as long as they were all together, everything would be okay. “I think we can make a _great_ night of it. And you know? I think I figured it all out. Especially when Zell gets back.”

“Good.” Seifer grabbed Quistis’ hand again and gave it an affectionate squeeze. “So…did you get a chance to talk to Rin?

* * *

Blue eyes narrowed as he watched the scene unfold in front of him. He was already in a bad enough mood and this only made it worse.

He lost to that bastard Seifer in a mistake that shouldn’t have happened. Not only was he not as strong as he had been in their previous encounters, but he couldn’t even muster a basic fire spell. It didn’t make any sense. 

Until it did.

And the reason for his lack of power was sitting in the quad, talking to Selphie. Apparently, to draw magic from Rinoa, he needed to sleep with her. Her servicing him wasn’t enough for a power transfer. It was that stupid chi business Zell was going on about. Feng Zheng. As he saw her excited talking, he was torn. He hadn’t seen her this happy and energized in months. But, he also needed her power.

It was him or her. She would have to give him what he needed.

Squall flinched as he noticed Selphie reach up and grab Rinoa’s necklace, pointing out the extra ring he had placed there months prior. Selphie was eying the inscription.

Selphie’s voice drifted and he could pick up bits of their conversation.

“… _R.L., I will love you forever_ …R.L.? Like, for Rinoa _Leonhart_?”

“…I guess so. I never knew it was…”

“…did you guys…oh my Hyne…married?”

“…not yet, but…”

Squall clenched his fist and glared at the unsuspecting brunette in the yellow dress. Something needed to change. And fast.

* * *

_Flutters of white. At first it was merely a speckle, the green of the grass still peeking through, but as Squall continued to journey forward, it coated everything, and his boots sank into the soft snow._

_It was nearly up to his ankles as he trudged on. He could see the outline of smoke in the distance, and picture an inviting fire, a log cabin._

_She was there, he was sure of it. Waiting for him. She always came to him when he called her in his dreams. If he could only get to the cabin, he could reunite with her, draw from her, feel her magic once again._

_The snow was now blasting into his face with a gusty wind that he felt in his bones. Teeth chattering, he looked down and realized his boots were gone, and the snow was up to his knees. He couldn’t make it anymore. He failed._

_Rinoa…_

* * *

Squall shot up in his sleep, shivering, as if he was still in the snow hills of Trabia. Glancing down at his side, he noticed Rinoa’s absence. It shouldn’t have surprised him, she hadn’t slept next to him since the “incident”, and he had made no moves to invite her back into their bed.

The dream had to be a message from Hyne. Staring down at his hands, Squall noticed the lack of magic. He realized that he had not been with Rinoa in life or in his dreams in over two weeks. Was Hyne telling him to go back to her? He needed her. But he also didn’t want to hurt her anymore.

He stood on shaky legs and flipped on the bedside table lamp, rubbing sleep from his eyes. There was a slight smell in the room. A familiar one. The smell of the sky before it snows. Glancing down at the floor, he noticed a trail of snowflakes going from his bed into the living room. He followed them exactly, even though he knew where they would lead him.

Rinoa lay sleeping on the couch. He sank to his knees next to her. Mimicking the position she had been in so many times over the last few weeks. Burying his face in her hair, he inhaled deeply before whispering in her ear. “Rin. Wake up.”

She murmured something incoherent, but blearily opened her eyes. “Squall…?”

“Shhh…” He hushed her, pushing the hair from her face. “I’m sorry. Come to bed. I’m so sorry.” Squall stood and lifted her effortlessly, cradling her to his body. He peppered the top of her head with kisses as he carried her back to their room, whispering apologies the whole way.

“I’m sorry too…” She answered softly, reaching up to curl her arms around his neck.

That night, he lost himself within her once again. Gently. In a gentleness he hadn’t displayed in nearly six months. Bodies twined together, kisses stolen in the dark, promises, vows, and whispered words of love.

The next morning, he could feel Hyne’s power humming beneath his skin, and Rinoa slept on, her body littered with bruises.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many, MANY thanks to my amazing beta **bebedora**. This story has been struggling for me, given everything going on and how dark it is, but she kicked my butt and we are back on track!
> 
> _Gianciotto découvre Paolo et Francesca._ is a painting by Jean-Auguste-Dominique Ingres. There are actually seven versions of the painting, the most famous being at the Musee Bonnat in Bayonne, France. The couple was a real couple in medieval Italy, Dante used the couple as an example in his canta _Inferno_


End file.
